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There,  sir,  I  have  read  them."''— [See  p.  11. 1 


ALL  SORTS 
AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN 

Bu  Ifmpoaslble  Stor^ 


BY 

WALTER  BESANT 

AUTHOR   OP 
"DOROTHY    FORSTEU"    "tIIE    CAPTAIN's    ROOM "    "CHILDREN    OP    GIBEON " 

"heru  paui.us"  "the  avorld  went  tery  well  then" 
"  for  faith  and  freedom  "  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK  .; 

1 
HARPER   &   BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN   SQUARE  j 

1 


By  WALTER  BESANT. 


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TO 

®l)e  iHemorg 

OF 

JAMES   RICE 


PREFACE. 


The  ten  years'  partnership  of  myself  and  my  late  friend  Mr. 
James  Rice  has  been  terminated  by  death.  I  am  persuaded 
that  nothing  short  of  death  would  have  put  an  end  to  a  part- 
nership which  was  conducted  throughout  with  perfect  accord, 
and  without  the  least  difference  of  opinion.  The  long  illness 
which  terminated  fatally  on  April  25th  of  this  year  began  in 
January  of  last  year.  There  were  intervals  during  which  he 
seemed  to  be  recovering  and  gaining  strength ;  he  was,  indeed, 
well  enough  in  the  autumn  to  try  change  of  air  by  a  visit  to 
Holland ;  but  he  broke  down  again  very  shortly  after  his  re- 
turn :  though  he  did  not  himself  suspect  it,  he  was  under  sen- 
tence of  death,  and  for  the  last  six  months  of  his  life  his  down- 
ward course  was  steady  and  continuous. 

Almost  the  last  act  of  his  in  our  partnership  was  the  arrange- 
ment, wdth  certain  country  papers  and  elsewhere,  for  the  serial 
publication  of  this  novel,  the  subject  and  writing  of  which  were 
necessarily  left  entirely  to  myself. 

The  many  wanderings,  therefore,  which  I  undertook  last  sum- 
mer in  Stepney,  Whitechapel,  Poplar,  St.  George's  in  the  East, 
Limehouse,  Bow,  Stratford,  Shadwell,  and  all  that  great  and 
marvellous  unknown  country  which  we  call  East  London,  were 
undertaken,  for  the  first  time  for  ten  years,  alone.  They  would 
have  been  undertaken  in  great  sadness  had  one  foreseen  the 
end.  In  one  of  these  wanderings  I  had  the  happiness  to  dis- 
cover Rotherhithe,  which  I  afterwards  explored  with  careful- 
ness ;  in  another,  I  lit  upon  a  certain  Haven  of  Rest  for  aged 
sea  captains,  among  whom  I  found  Captain  Sorensen ;  in  others 
I  found  many  wonderful  things,  and  conversed  with  many  won- 


VI  PREFACE. 

derful  people.  The  "single-handedness,"  so  to  speak,  of  this 
book  would  have  been  a  mere  episode  in  the  history  of  the  Finn, 
a  matter  of  no  concern  or  interest  to  the  general  public,  had  my 
friend  recovered.  But  he  is  dead  ;  and  it  therefore  devolves 
upon  me  to  assume  the  sole  responsibility  of  the  work,  for  good 
or  bad.  The  same  responsibility  is,  of  course,  assumed  for  the 
two  short  stories  "The  Captain's  Room,"  published  at  Christ- 
mas last,  and  "  They  were  Married,"  published  as  the  summer 
number  of  the  Illustrated  London  News.  The  last  story  was, 
in  fact,  written  after  the  death  of  my  partner ;  but  as  it  had 
already  been  announced,  it  was  thought  best,  under  the  circum- 
stances, to  make  no  change  in  the  title. 

I  have  been  told  by  certain  friendly  advisers  that  this  story 
is  impossible.  I  have,  therefore,  stated  the  fact  on  the  title- 
page,  so  that  no  one  may  complain  of  being  taken  in  or  de- 
ceived.    But  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  why  it  is 

impossible. 

Walter  Besant. 

Unitkd  UiOTSSSiTiEs'  Club,  August  19, 1882. 


CONTENTS. 


CnAPTER  Pagb 

Prologue — in  Two  Parts 1 

I.  News  for  His  Lordship 17 

II.  A  Very  Complkte  Case 30 

III.  Only  a  Dressmaker 36 

IV.  Uncle  IJunker 45 

V.  The  Cares  of  Wealth 55 

VI.  A  First  Step C4 

VII.  The  Trinity  Almshouse 75 

VIII.  What  he  Got  by  It ...     86 

IX.  The  Day  Before  the  First 94 

X.  The  Gkeat  Davenant  Cask 102 

XI.  The  First  Day 109 

XII.  Sunday  at  the  E.vst  End 117 

XIII.  Angela's  Experiment , 126 

XIV.  Thk  Tender  Passion   .     . 136 

XV.  A  Splendid  Offer 144 

XVI.  Harry's  Decision •  ...  152 

XVII.  What  Lord  Jocelyn  Thought. 158 

XVIII.  The  Palace  of  Delight 164 

XIX.  Dick  the  Radical 172 

XX.  Down  on  their  Luck , 178 

XXI.  Lady  Davenant 186 

XXII.  Daniel  Fagg .  194 

XXIIL  The  Missing  Li.nk 202 

XXIV.  Lord  Jocelyn's  Troubles 208 

XXV.  An  Invitation 216 

XXVI.  Lord  Davenant's  Greatness    ...........  224 

XXVIL  The  Same  Signs 233 

XXVIIL  Harry  Finds  Liberty 237 

XXIX.  The  Figure-heads 251 

XXX.  The  Professor's  Proposal 260 

XXXI.  Captain  Coppin  ......    ^ 266 


Vin                                                           CONTENTS. 
Chaptkr  Page 

XXXII.  BcsKER  AT  Bay 276 

XXXIII.  Mr.  Busker's  Letter 283 

XXXIV.  Proofs  in  Print 288 

XXXV.  "Then  we'll  Keep  Company" .  294 

XXXVI.  What  will  be  the  End? 303 

XXXVII.  Truth  with  Faithfulness     .    .:..,^ 308 

XXXVIII.  I  AM  THE  Dressmaker 316 

XXXIX.  Thrice-happy  Boy 325 

XL.  SwEKT  Nelly 831 

XLI.   BOXISG-NIGHT 339 

XLII.  Not  Josephcs,  but  Another 346 

XLIII.  Oh,  my  Prophetic  Soul  ! 355 

XLIV.  A  Fool  and  his  Money 363 

XLV.  Lady  Datenant's  Dinner-party 369 

XLVL  The  End  of  the  Case 379 

XLVII.  The  Palace  of  Delight 384 

XLVIIL  My  Lady  Sweet 391 

XLIX.  "  Uprouse  ye  then,  my  Merry,  Merry  Men  " 397 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


'"there,  sir,  1  HAVE  READ  THEM'" Frontispicce. 

"'very  good,     that's  practical'" Ih  face  page  46 

"'it   reminded    me    of    CANAAN    CITY    IN    JULY*"     ....  "  106 

"'in  the  evening  we  have  sacred  music'"     ....  "  132 

"  AFTER  he'd  knocked  HIM  DOWN,  HARRY  INVITED  THAT  CHAP 

TO  STAND  CP  AND  HAVE  IT  OUT  " "  178 

"THE  AUDACITY  OF  THE  LITTLE  MAN  EXCITED  ANGELA'S  CU- 
RIOSITY"   "  200 

"in   THE   FULL   ENJOYMENT   OP   THE    INTOXICATION    PRODUCED 

BY   HIS   MORNING   PIPE  " "  260 

"he   BECKONED   HER,  WITHOUT   A   WORD,  TO   RISE " .      ...  "  274 

"  '  I    AM THE THE    DRESSMAKER  '  " "  326 

"  '  SHE   LOVES   HIM   HERSELF,'    ANGELA    WAS   THINKING  "     .       .  "  338 
"  '  DO  YOU   DELIBERATELY  CHOOSE  A  LIFE    OF   WORK    AND  AM- 
BITION— WITH — PERHAPS — POVERTY  ?'" "  398 


ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN. 


PROLOGUE.— PART   I. 

It  was  the  evening  of  a  day  in  early  June.  The  time  was 
last  year,  and  the  place  was  Cambridge.  The  sun  had  been  vis- 
ible in  the  heavens,  a  gracious  presence,  actually  a  whole  week 
— in  itself  a  thing  remarkable  ;  the  hearts  of  the  most  soured, 
even  of  landlords  and  farmers,  were  coming  to  believe  again  in 
the  possibility  of  fine  weather ;  the  clergy  were  beginning  to 
think  that  they  might  this  year  hold  a  real  Harvest  Thanksgiv- 
ing instead  of  a  sham ;  the  trees  at  the  Backs  were  in  full  foli- 
age ;  the  avenues  of  Trinity  and  Clare  were  splendid ;  beside 
them  the  trim  lawns  sloped  to  the  margin  of  the  Cam,  here  most 
glorious  and  proudest  of  English  rivers,  seeing  that  he  laves  the 
meadows  of  those  ancient  and  venerable  foundations,  King's, 
Trinity,  and  St.  John's,  to  say  nothing  of  Queen's  and  Clare  and 
Magdalen ;  men  were  lazily  floating  in  canoes,  or  leaning  over 
the  bridges,  or  strolling  about  the  walks,  or  lying  on  the  grass ; 
and  among  them — but  not,  oh !  not  with  them — walked  or  rest- 
ed many  of  the  damsels  of  learned  Newnham,  chiefly  in  pairs, 
holding  sweet  converse 

"  On  mind  and  art, 

And  labor  and  the  changing  mart, 

And  all  the  framework  of  the  land ;" 

not  neglecting  the  foundations  of  the  Christian  faith  and  other 
fashionabla  topics,  which  ladies  nowadays  handle  with  so  much 
learning,  originality,  dexterity,  and  power. 

We  have,  however,  to  do  with  only  one  pair,  who  were  sitting 
together  on  the  banks  opposite  Trinity.     These  two  were  talk- 
ing about  a  subject  far  more  interesting  than  any  concerning 
mind,  or  art,  or  philosophy,  or  the  chances  of  the  Senate  House, 
1 


2  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

or  the  future  of  Newnham :  for  tliey  were  talking  about  them- 
selves and  their  own  lives,  and  what  they  were  to  do  each  with 
that  one  life  which  happened,  by  the  mere  accident  of  birth,  to 
belong  to  herself.  It  must  be  a  curious  subject  for  reflection  in 
extreme  old  age,  when  everything  has  happened  that  is  going  to 
happen,  including  rheumatism,  that,  but  for  this  accident,  one's 
life  might  have  been  so  very  different. 

"  Because,  Angela,"  said  the  one  who  wore  spectacles  and 
looked  older  than  she  was,  by  reason  of  much  pondering  over 
bookG  and  perhaps  too  little  exercise — "  because,  my  dear,  we 
have  but  this  one  life  before  us,  and  if  we  make  mistakes  with 
it,  or  throw  it  away,  or  waste  it,  or  lose  our  chances,  it  is  such 
a  dreadful  pity.  Oh,  to  think  of  the  girls  who  drift  and  let 
every  chance  go  by,  and  get  nothing  out  of  their  lives  at  all — 
except  babies"  (she  spoke  of  babies  with  great  contempt).  "  Oh ! 
it  seems  as  if  every  moment  were  precious :  oh !  it  is  a  sin  to 
waste  an  hour  of  it." 

She  gasped  and  clasped  her  hands  together  with  a  sigh.  She 
was  not  acting,  not  at  all ;  this  girl  was  that  hitherto  rare  thing, 
a  girl  of  study  and  of  books ;  she  was  wholly  possessed,  like 
the  great  scholars  of  old,  with  the  passion  for  learning. 

"  Oh !  greedy  person !"  replied  the  other,  with  a  laugh,  "  if 
you  read  all  the  books  in  the  University  library,  and  lose  the 
enjoyment  of  sunshine,  what  shall  it  profit  you,  in  the  long- 
run  ?" 

This  one  was  a  young  woman  of  much  finer  physique  than 
her  friend.  She  was  not  short-sighted ;  but  possessed,  in  fact,  a 
pair  of  orbs  of  very  remarkable  clearness,  steadiness,  and  bright- 
ness. They  were  not  soft  eyes,  nor  languishing  eyes,  nor  sleepy 
eyes,  nor  downcast,  shrinking  eyes ;  they  were  wide  -  awake, 
brown,  honest  eyes,  which  looked  fearlessly  upon  all  things,  fair 
or  foul.  A  girl  does  not  live  at  Newnham  two  years  for  noth- 
ing, mind  you ;  when  she  leaves  that  seat  of  learning,  she  has 
changed  her  mind  about  the  model,  the  perfect,  the  ideal  wom- 
an. More  than  that,  she  will  change  the  minds  of  her  sisters 
and  her  cousins  :  and  there  are  going  to  be  a  great  many  Newn- 
hams ;  and  the  spread  of  this  revolution  will  be  rapid ;  and  the 
shrinking,  obedient,  docile,  man-reverencing,  curate-worshipping 
maiden  of  our  youth  will  shortly  vanish  and  be  no  more  seen. 
And  what  will  the  curate  do  then,  poor  thing  ?    Wherefore  let 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  3 

the  bishop  look  to  certain  necessary  changes  in  the  Marriage 
Service ;  and  let  the  young  men  see  that  their  own  ideas  change 
with  the  times,  else  there  will  be  no  sweethearts  for  them.  More 
could  I  prophesy,  but  refrain. 

This  young  lady  owned,  besides  those  mentioned  above,  many 
other  points  which  will  always  be  considered  desirable  at  her 
age,  whatever  be  the  growth  of  feminine  education  (wherefore, 
courage,  brothers !).  In  all  these  points  she  contrasted  favora- 
bly with  her  companion.  For  her  face  was  sunny,  and  fair  to 
look  upon  ;  one  of  the  young  clerical  dons — now  a  scanty  band, 
almost  a  Remnant — was  reported  to  have  said,  after  gazing  upon 
that  face,  that  he  now  understood,  which  he  had  never  under- 
stood before,  what  Solomon  meant  when  he  compared  his  love's 
temples  to  a  piece  of  pomegranate  within  her  locks.  No  one 
asked  him  what  he  meant,  but  he  was  a  mathematical  man,  and 
so  he  must  have  meant  something,  if  it  was  only  trigonometry. 
As  to  her  figure,  it  was  what  a  healthy,  naturally  dressed,  and 
strong  young  woman's  figure  ought  to  be,  and  not  more  slender 
in  the  waist  than  was  the  figure  of  Venus  or  Mother  Eve ;  and 
her  limbs  were  elastic,  so  that  she  seemed  when  she  walked  as 
if  she  would  like  to  run,  jump,  and  dance,  which,  indeed,  she 
would  have  greatly  preferred,  only  at  Newnham  they  "  take  it 
out "  at  lawn-tennis.  And  whatever  might  be  the  course  of  life 
marked  out  by  herself,  it  was  quite  certain  to  the  intelligent  ob- 
server that  before  long  Love  the  invincible — Love  that  laughs  at 
plots,  plans,  conspiracies,  and  designs — would  upset  them  all, 
and  trace  out  quite  another  line  of  life  for  her,  and  most  prob- 
ably the  most  commonplace  line  of  all. 

"  Your  life,  Constance,"  she  went  on,  "  seems  to  me  the  most 
happy  and  the  most  fortunate.  How  nobly  you  have  vindicated 
the  intellect  of  women  by  your  degree  !" 

"  No,  my  dear  :"  Constance  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  No  ; 
only  partly  vindicated  our  intellect ;  remember  I  was  but  fifth 
Wrangler,  and  there  were  four  men — men,  Angela — above  me. 
I  wanted  to  be  Senior." 

"Everybody  knows  that  the  fifth  is  always  as  good  as  the 
first."  Constance,  however,  shook  her  head  at  this  daring  at- 
tempt at  consolation.  "At  all  events,  Constance,  you  will  go  on 
to  prove  it  by  your  original  papers  when  you  publish  your  re- 
searches.    You  will  lecture  like  Hypatia ;  you  will  have  the  un- 


^4  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

dergraduates  leaving  the  men  and  crowding  to  your  theatre. 
You  will  become  the  greatest  mathematician  in  Cambridge  ;  you 
will  be  famous  forever.  You  will  do  better  than  man  himself, 
even  in  man's  most  exalted  level  of  intellectual  strength." 

The  pale  cheek  of  the  student  flushed. 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  do  better  than  men,"  she  replied,  humbly. 
"  It  will  be  enough  if  I  do  as  well.  Yes,  my  dear,  all  ray  life, 
short  or  long,  shall  be  given  to  science.  I  will  have  no  love  in 
it,  or  marriage,  or — or — anything  of  that  kind  at  all." 

"  Nor  will  I,"  said  the  other,  stoutly,  yet  with  apparent  effort. 
"  Marriage  spoils  a  woman's  career ,  we  must  live  our  life  to  its 
utmost,  Constance." 

"  We  must,  Angela.  It  is  the  only  thing  in  this  world  of 
doubt  that  is  a  clear  duty.  I  owe  mine  to  science.  You,  my 
dear,  to — " 

She  would  have  said  to  "  Political  Economy,"  but  a  thought 
checked  her.  For  a  singular  thmg  had  happened  only  the  day 
before.  This  friend  of  hers,  this  Angela  Messenger,  who  had 
recently  illustrated  the  strength  of  woman's  intellect  by  passing 
a  really  brilliant  examination  in  that  particular  science,  aston- 
ished her  friends  at  a  little  informal  meeting  in  the  library  by 
an  oration.  In  this  speech  she  went  out  of  her  way  to  pour  con- 
tempt upon  Political  Economy.  It  was  a  so-called  science,  she 
said,  not  a  science  at  all :  a  collection  of  theories  impossible  of 
proof.  It  treated  of  men  and  women  as  skittles,  it  ignored  the 
principal  motives  of  action,  it  had  been  put  together  for  the 
most  part  by  doctrinaires  who  lived  apart,  and  knew  nothing 
about  men  and  less  about  women ;  and  it  was  the  favorite  study, 
she  cruelly  declared,  of  her  own  sex,  because  it  was  the  most 
easily  crammed  and  made  the  most  show.  As  for  herself,  she 
declared  that,  for  all  the  good  it  had  done  her,  she  might  just  as 
well  have  gone  through  a  course  of  a3sthetics  or  studied  the  sym- 
bols of  advanced  ritualism. 

Therefore,  remembering  the  oration,  Constance  Woodcote  hes- 
itated. To  what  Cause  (with  a  capital  C)  should  Angela  Messen 
ger  devote  her  life  ? 

"I  will  tell  you  presently,"  said  Angela,  "how  I  shall  begin 
my  life.     Where  the  beginning  will  lead  me,  I  cannot  tell." 

Then  there  was  silence  for  a  while.  The  sun  sank  lower  and 
the  setting  rays  fell  upon  the  foliage,  and  every  leaf  showed 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  5 

like  a  leaf  of  gold,  and  the  river  lay  in  shadow  and  became 
ghostly,  and  the  windows  of  Trinity  library  opposite  to  them 
glowed,  and  the  New  Court  of  St.  John's  at  their  left  hand  be- 
came like  unto  the  palace  of  Kubla  Khan. 

"  Oh  '"  sighed  the  young  mathematician.  "  I  shall  never  be 
satisfied  till  Newnham  crosses  the  river.  We  must  have  one  of 
these  colleges  for  ourselves.  We  must  have  King's.  Yes,  King's 
will  be  the  best.  And  oh !  how  differently  we  shall  live  from 
the  so-called  students  who  are  now  smoking  tobacco  in  each 
other's  rooms,  or  playing  billiards,  or  even  cards — the  superior 
sex !" 

"  As  for  us,  we  shall  presently  go  back  to  our  rooms,  have  a 
cup  of  tea  and  a  talk,  my  dear.  Then  we  shall  go  to  bed.  As 
regards  the  men,  those  of  your  mental  level,  Constance,  do  not, 
I  suppose,  plav  billiards ;  nor  do  they  smoke  tobacco.  Under- 
graduates are  not  all  students,  remember.  Most  of  them  are 
nothing  but  mere  Pass-men  who  will  become  curates." 

Two  points  in  this  speech  seem  to  call  for  remark.  First,  the 
singular  ignorance  of  mankind,  common  to  all  women,  which  led 
the  girl  to  believe  that  a  great  man  of  science  is  superior  to  the 
pleasures  of  weaker  brethren  ;  for  they  cannot  understand  the 
delights  of  fooling.  The  second  point  is — but  it  may  be  left  to 
those  who  read  as  they  run. 

Then  they  rose  and  walked  slowly  under  the  grand  old  trees 
of  Trinity  Avenue,  facing  the  setting  sun,  so  that,  when  they 
came  to  the  end  and  turned  to  the  left,  it  seemed  as  if  they 
plunged  into  night.  And  presently  they  came  to  the  gates  of 
Newnham,  the  newer  Newnham,  with  its  trim  garden  and  Queen 
Anne  mansion.  It  grates  upon  one  that  the  beginnings  of  a 
noble  and  lasting  reform  should  be  housed  in  a  palace  built  in 
the  conceited  fashion  of  the  day.  What  will  they  say  of  it  in 
fifty  years,  when  the  fashion  has  changed  and  new  styles  reign  ? 

"  Come,"  said  Angela,  *'  come  into  my  room.  Let  my  last 
evening  in  the  dear  place  be  spent  with  you,  Constance." 

Angela's  own  room  was  daintily  furnished  and  adorned  with 
as  many  pictures,  pretty  things,  books,  and  bric-a-brac  as  the 
narrow  dimensions  of  a  Newnham  cell  will  allow.  In  a  more 
advanced  Newnham  there  will  be  two  rooms  for  each  student, 
and  these  will  be  larger. 

The  girls  sat  by  the   open   window :  the  air  was  soft  and 


6  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

sweet.  A  bunch  of  cowslips  from  the  Croton  meadows  per- 
fumed the  room  ;  there  was  the  jug-jug  of  a  nightingale  in  some 
tree  not  far  off;  opposite  them  were  the  lights  of  the  other 
Newnham. 

"The  last  night !"  said  Angela  "I  can  hardly  believe  that  I 
go  down  to-morrow." 

Then  she  was  silent  again. 

"  My  life,"  she  went  on,  speaking  softly  in  the  twilight,  *'  be- 
gins to-morrow.  What  am  I  to  do  with  it?  Your  own  solution 
seems  so  easy  because  you  are  clever  and  you  have  no  mon- 
ey, while  I,  who  am — well,  dear,  not  devoured  by  thirst  for  learn- 
ing— have  got  so  much.  To  begin  with,  there  is  the  Brewery. 
You  cannot  escape  from  a  big  brewery  if  it  belongs  to  you. 
You  cannot  hide  it  away.  Messenger,  Marsden,  &  Company's 
Stout,  their  XXX,  their  Old  and  Mild,  their  Bitter,  their  Family 
Ales  (that  particularly  at  eight-and-six  the  nine-gallon  cask,  if 
paid  for  on  delivery),  their  drays,  their  huge  horses,  their  strong 
men,  whose  very  appearance  advertises  the  beer,  and  makes  the 
weak-kneed  and  the  narrow-chested  rusli  to  Whitechapel — my 
dear,  these  things  stare  one  in  the  face  wherever  you  go.  1  am 
that  Brewery,  as  you  know.  I  am  Messenger,  Marsden,  &  Com- 
pany, myself,  the  sole  partner  in  what  my  lawyer  sweetly  calls 
the  Concern.  Nobody  else  is  concerned  in  it.  It  is — alas  ! — • 
my  own  Great  Concern,  a  dreadful  responsibility." 

*'  Why  ?     Your  people  manage  it  for  you." 

"  Yes — oh  yes  ! — they  do.  And  whether  they  manage  it  bad- 
ly or  well  I  do  not  know ;  whether  they  make  wholesome  beer 
or  bad,  whether  they  treat  their  clerks  and  workmen  generously 
or  meanly,  whether  the  name  of  the  Company  is  beloved  or 
hated,  1  do  not  know.  Perhaps  the  very  making  of  beer  at  all 
is  a  wickedness." 

"  But — Angela,"  the  other  interrupted,  '*  it  is  no  business  of 
yours.     Naturally,  wages  are  regulated  by  supply  and — " 

*'  No,  my  dear.  That  is  political  economy.  I  prefer  the  good 
old  English  plan.  If  I  employ  a  man,  and  he  works  faithfully, 
I  should  like  that  man  to  feel  that  he  grows  every  day  worth  to 
me  more  than  his  market  value." 

Constance  was  silenced. 

"  Then,  beside  the  Brewery,"  Angela  went  on,  "  there  is  an 
unconscionable  sum  of  money  in  the  Funds." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  7 

"  There,  at  least,"  said  her  friend,  "  you  need  feel  no  scruple 
of  conscience." 

"  But  indeed  I  do ;  for  how  do  I  know  that  it  is  right  to  keep 
all  this  money  idle  ?  A  hundred  pounds  saved  and  put  into  the 
Funds  means  three  pounds  a  year.  It  is  like  a  perennial  stream 
flowing  from  a  hidden  reservoir  in  a  hillside.  But  this  stream, 
in  my  case,  does  no  good  at  all.  It  neither  fertilizes  the  soil 
nor  is  it  drunk  by  man  or  beast,  nor  does  it  turn  mills,  nor  is  it 
a  beautiful  thing  to  look  upon,  nor  does  its  silver  current  flow 
by  banks  of  flowers  or  fall  in  cascades.  It  all  runs  away,  and 
makes  another  reservoir  in  another  hillside.  My  dear,  it  is  a 
stream  of  compound  interest,  which  is  constantly  getting  deeper 
and  broader  and  stronger,  and  yet  is  never  of  the  least  use,  and 
turns  no  wheels.     Now,  what  am  I  to  do  with  this  money  ?" 

"  Endow  Newnham ;  there,  at  least,  is  something  practical." 

"  I  will  found  some  scholarships,  if  you  please,  later  on,  when 
you  have  made  your  work  felt.  Again,  there  are  my  houses  in 
the  East  End." 

"  Sell  them." 

"  That  is  only  to  shift  the  responsibility.  My  dear,  I  have 
streets  of  houses.  They  all  lie  about  AVhitechapel  way.  My 
grandfather,  John  Messenger,  bought  houses,  I  believe,  just  as 
other  people  buy  apples,  by  the  peck,  or  some  larger  measure,  a 
reduction  being  made  on  taking  a  quantity.  There  they  are, 
and  mostly  inhabited." 

"You  have  agents,  I  suppose?"  said  Constance,  unsympa- 
thizinglv.  "  It  is  their  duty  to  see  that  the  houses  are  well 
kept."  ' 

"  Yes,  I  have  agents.  But  they  cannot  absolve  me  from  re- 
sponsibility." 

"  Then,"  asked  Constance,  "  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 

"  I  am  a  native  almost  of  Whitechapel.  My  grandfather,  who 
succeeded  in  the  Brewery,  was  born  there — his  father  was  also 
a  brewer ;  his  grandfather  is,  I  believe,  prehistoric :  he  lived 
there  long  after  his  son,  my  father,  was  born.  "WTien  he  moved 
to  Bloomsbury  Square  he  thought  he  was  getting  into  quite  a 
fashionable  quarter ;  and  he  only  went  to  Portman  Square  be- 
cause he  desired  me  to  go  into  society.  I  am  so  rich  that  I 
shall  quite  certainly  be  welcomed  in  society.  But,  my  dear, 
Whitechapel  and  its  neighborhood  are  my  proper  sphere.    Whv, 

n 


8  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

my  very  name !  I  reek  of  beer ;  I  am  all  beer ;  my  blood  is 
beer.  Angela  Marsden  Messenger !  What  could  more  plainly 
declare  my  connection  with  Messenger,  Marsden,  tk  Company  ? 
I  only  wonder  that  he  did  not  call  me  Marsden  &  Company 
Messenger." 

•'  But— Angela— " 

"  He  would,  Constance,  if  he  had  thought  of  it.  For,  you  see, 
I  was  the  heiress  from  the  very  beginning,  because  my  father 
died  before  my  birth.  And  my  grandfather  intended  me  to  be- 
come the  perfect  Brewer,  if  a  woman  can  attain  to  so  high  an 
ideal.  Therefore  I  was  educated  in  the  necessary  and  fitting 
lines.  They  taught  me  the  industries  of  England,  the  arts  and 
manufactories,  mathematics,  accounts,  the  great  outlets  of  trade, 
book-keeping,  mechanics — all  those  things  that  are  practical. 
How  it  happened  that  I  was  allowed  to  learn  music  I  do  not 
know.  Then,  when  I  grew  up,  I  was  sent  here  by  him,  because 
the  very  air  of  Cambridge,  he  thought,  makes  people  exact ;  and 
women  are  so  prone  to  be  inexact.  I  was  to  read  while  I  was 
here  all  the  books  about  Political  and  Social  Economy.  I  have 
also  learned  for  business  purposes  two  or  three  languages.  I  am 
now  finished.  I  know  all  the  theories  about  people,  and  1  don't 
believe  any  of  them  will  work.  Therefore,  my  dear,  I  shall  get 
to  know  the  people  before  I  apply  them." 

"  Was  your  grandfather  a  student  of  Political  Economy  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  But  he  had  a  respect  for  justice,  and  he  wanted 
me  to  be  just.  It  is  so  difficult,  he  used  to  say,  for  a  woman  to 
be  just.  For  either  she  flies  into  a  rage  and  punishes  with  ex- 
cess, or  she  takes  pity  and  forgives.  As  for  himself,  he  was  as 
hard  as  nails,  and  the  people  knew  it." 

"  And  your  project  ?" 

•'  It  is  very  simple.    I  efface  myself.    I  vanish.    I  disappear  ?" 

»  What  ?" 

*'  If  anybody  asks  where  I  am,  no  one  will  know,  except  you, 
my  dear ;  and  you  will  not  tell." 

'*  You  will  be  in—" 

"  In  Whitechapel,  or  thereabouts.  Your  Angela  will  be  a 
dressmaker,  and  she  will  live  by  herself  and  become — what  her 
great-grandmother  was — one  of  tbe  people." 

"  You  will  not  like  it  at  all." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  I  am  weary  of  theories,  facts,  statistics. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  "Q 

I  want  flesh  and  blood.  I  want  to  feel  myself  a  part  of  this 
striving,  eager,  anxious  humanity,  on  whose  labors  I  live  in  com- 
fort, by  whom  I  have  been  educated,  to  whom  I  owe  all,  and  for 
whom  I  have  done  nothing — no,  nothing  at  all,  selfish  wretch 
that  I  am !" 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  a  fine  gesture  of  remorse. 

"  Oh,  woman  of  silence  ?"  she  cried ;  "  you  sit  upon  the 
heights,  and  you  can  disregard — because  it  is  your  right — the 
sorrows  and  the  joys  of  the  world.  But  I  cannot.  I  belong  to 
the  People — with  a  great  big  P,  my  dear — I  cannot  bear  to  go 
on  living  by  their  toil  and  giving  nothing  in  return.  What  a 
dreadful  thing  is  a  She-Dives  !" 

"  I  confess,"  said  Constance,  coldly,  "  that  I  have  always  re- 
garded wealth  as  a  means  for  leading  the  higher  life — the  life 
of  study  and  research — unencumbered  by  the  sordid  aims  and 
mean  joys  of  the  vulgar  herd." 

"  It  is  possible  and  right  for  you  to  live  apart,  my  dear.  It 
is  impossible,  because  it  would  be  wrong,  for  me." 

"But  —  alone?  You  will  venture  into  the  dreadful  region 
alone  ?" 

"  Quite  alone,  Constance." 

"  And — and — your  reputation,  Angela  ?" 

Angela  laughed  merrily. 

"  As  for  my  reputation,  my  dear,  it  may  take  care  of  itself. 
Those  of  my  friends  who  think  I  am  not  to  be  trusted  may 
transfer  their  affection  to  more  worthy  objects.  The  first  thing 
in  the  emancipation  of  the  sex,  Constance,  is  equal  education. 
The  next  is—" 

"  What  ?"  for  Angela  paused. 

She  drew  forth  from  her  pocket  a  small,  bright  instrument  of 
steel,  which  glittered  in  the  twilight.  Not  a  revolver,  dear 
readers. 

"  The  next,"  she  said,  brandishing  the  weapon  before  Con- 
stance's eyes,  "  is — the  Latch-key  !" 

PPtOLOGUE.— PART  II. 

The  time  was  eleven  in  the  forenoon ;   the  season  was  the 
month  of  roses ;  the  place  was  a  room  on  the  first  floor  at  the 
Park-end  of  Piccadilly — a  noisy  room,  because  the  windows  were 
1* 


10  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

open,  and  there  was  a  great  thunder  and  rattle  of  cabs,  omni- 
buses, and  all  kinds  of  vehicles.  When  this  noise  became,  as  it 
sometimes  did,  intolerable,  the  occupant  of  the  room  shut  his 
double  windows,  and  immediately  there  was  a  great  calm,  with  a 
melodious  roll  of  distant  wheels,  like  the  buzzing  of  bees  about 
the  marigolds  on  a  summer  afternoon.  With  the  double  window 
a  man  may  calmly  sit  down  amid  even  the  roar  of  Cheapside,  or 
the  never-ending  cascade  of  noise  at  Charing  Cross. 

The  room  was  furnished  with  taste ;  the  books  on  the  shelves 
were  well  bound,  as  if  the  owner  took  a  proper  pride  in  them, 
as  indeed  was  the  case.  There  were  two  or  three  good  pictures ; 
there  was  a  girl's  head  in  marble ;  there  were  cards  and  invita- 
tions lying  on  the  mantel-shelf  and  in  a  rack  beside  the  clock. 
Everybody  could  tell  at  the  first  look  of  the  room  that  it  was  a 
bachelor's  den.  Also  because  nothing  was  new,  and  because 
there  were  none  of  the  peacockeries,  whims  and  fancies,  absurdi- 
ties, fads  and  fashions,  gimcrackeries — the  presence  of  which 
does  always  and  infallibly  proclaim  the  chamber  of  a  young  man 
— this  room  manifestly  belonged  to  a  bachelor  who  was  old  in 
the  profession.  In  fact,  the  owner  of  the  chambers,  of  which  this 
was  the  breakfast,  morning,  and  dinner  room,  whenever  he  dined 
at  home,  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair  beside  a  breakfast-table, 
looking  straight  before  him,  with  a  face  filled  with  anxiety.  An 
honest,  ugly,  pleasing,  rugged,  attractive  face,  whose  features 
were  carved  one  day  when  Dame  Nature  was  benevolently  dis- 
posed, but  had  a  blunt  chisel. 

"  I  always  told  him,"  he  muttered,  "  that  he  should  learn  the 
whole  of  his  family  history  as  soon  as  he  was  three-and-twenty 
years  of  age.  One  must  keep  such  promises.  Yet  it  would 
have  been  better  that  he  should  never  know.  But  then  it  might 
have  been  found  out,  and  that  would  have  been  far  worse. 
Yet,  how  could  it  have  been  found  out  ?  No ;  that  is  ridicu- 
lous." 

He  mused  in  silence.  In  his  fingers  he  held  a  cigar,  which  he 
had  lit  but  allowed  to  go  out  again.  The  morning  paper  was 
lying  on  the  table,  unopened. 

"  How  will  the  boy  take  it  ?"  he  asked ;  "  will  he  take  it  cry- 
ing? or  will  he  take  it  laughing?" 

He  smiled,  picturing  to  himself  the  "  boy's  "  astonishment. 

Looking  at  the  man  more  closely,  one  became  aware  that  be 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  H 

was  really  a  very  pleasant-looking  person.  He  was  about  five- 
and-forty  years  of  age,  and  he  wore  a  full  beard  and  mustache, 
after  the  manner  of  his  contemporaries,  with  whom  a  beard  is 
still  considered  a  manly  ornament  to  the  face.  The  beard  was 
brown,  but  it  had  begun  to  show,  as  wine-merchants  say  of 
port, ''  the  appearance  of  age."  In  some  light,  there  was  more 
gray  than  brown.  His  dark-brown  hair,  however,  retained  its 
original  thickness  of  thatch,  and  was  as  yet  untouched  by  any 
streak  ol'  gray.  Seeing  that  he  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest 
and  best  of  English  families,  one  might  have  expected  some- 
thing of  that  delicacy  of  feature  which  some  of  us  associate  with 
birth.  But,  as  has  already  been  said,  his  face  was  rudely  chis- 
elled, his  complexion  was  ruddy,  and  he  looked  as  robust  as  a 
ploughboy ;  yet  he  had  the  air  of  an  English  gentleman,  and 
that  ought  to  satisfy  anybody.  And  he  was  the  younger  son  of 
a  duke,  being  by  courtesy  Lord  Jocelyn  Le  Breton. 

While  he  was  thus  meditating,  there  was  a  quick  step  on  the 
stairs,  and  the  subject  of  his  thoughts  entered  the  room. 

This  interesting  young  man  was  a  much  more  aristocratic  per- 
son to  look  upon  than  his  senior.  He  paraded,  so  to  speak,  at 
every  point  the  thoroughbred  air.  His  thin  and  delicate  nose, 
his  clear  eye,  his  high  though  narrow  forehead,  his  well-cut  lip, 
his  firm  chin,  his  pale  cheek,  his  oval  face,  the  slim  figure,  the 
thin,  long  fingers,  the  spring  of  his  walk,  the  poise  of  his  head — 
what  more  could  one  expect  even  from  the  descendant  of  all  the 
Howards  ?  But  this  morning  the  pallor  of  his  cheek  was  flushed 
as  if  with  some  disquieting  news. 

"  Good-morning,  Harry,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  quietly. 

Harry  returned  the  greeting.  Then  he  threw  upon  the  table 
a  small  packet  of  papers. 

"  There,  sir,  I  have  read  them ;  thank  you  for  letting  me  see 
them." 

"  Sit  down,  boy,  and  let  us  talk ;  will  you  have  a  cigar  ?  No  ? 
A  cigarette,  then  ?  No  ?  You  are  probably  a  little  upset  by 
this  new,  unexpected  revelation  ?" 

"  A  little  upset !"  repeated  the  young  man,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure — one  could  expect  nothing  else ; 
now  sit  down,  and  let  us  talk  over  the  matter  calmly." 

The  young  man  sat  down,  but  he  did  not  present  the  appear- 
ance of  one  inclined  to  talk  over  the  matter  calmly. 


12  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  In  novels,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  it  is  always  the  good-for- 
tune of  young  gentlemen  brought  up  in  ignorance  of  their  par- 
entage to  turn  out,  when  they  do  discover  their  origin,  the  heirs 
to  an  illustrious  name :  I  have  always  admired  that  in  novels. 
In  your  case,  my  poor  Uarry,  the  reverse  is  the  case :  the  dis- 
tinction ought  to  console  you." 

"  Why  was  I  not  told  before  ?" 

"  Because  the  boyish  brain  is  more  open  to  prejudice  than 
that  of  the  adult ;  because,  among  your  companions,  you  cer- 
tainly would  have  felt  at  a  disadvantage  had  you  known  yourself 
to  be  the  son  of  a — " 

"  You  always  told  me,"  said  Harry,  "  that  my  father  was  in 
the  army !" 

"  What  do  you  call  a  sergeant  in  a  line  regiment,  then  ?" 

"  Oh  !  of  course,  but  among  gentlemen — I  mean — among  the 
set  with  whom  I  was  brought  up,  to  be  in  the  army  means  to 
have  a  commission." 

"Yes;  that  was  my  pardonable  deception.  I  thought  that 
you  would  respect  yourself  more  if  you  felt  that  your  father, 
like  the  fathers  of  your  friends,  belonged  to  the  upper  class. 
Now,  my  dear  boy,  you  will  respect  yourself  just  as  much,  al- 
though you  know  that  he  was  but  a  sergeant,  and  a  brave  fellow 
who  fell  at  my  side  in  the  Indian  Mutiny." 

"  And  my  mother  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  her ;  she  was  dead  before  I  found  you  out, 
and  took  you  from  your  Uncle  Bunker." 

"Uncle  Bunker!"  Harry  laughed,  with  a  little  bitterness. 
"  Uncle  Bunker !  Fancy  asking  one's  Uncle  Bunker  to  dine  at 
the  club  !     What  is  he  by  trade  ?" 

"  He  is  something  near  a  big  brewery,  a  Brewery  Boom,  as 
the  Americans  say.  What  he  actually  is,  I  do  not  quite  know. 
He  lives,  if  I  remember  rightly,  at  a  place  an  immense  distance 
from  here,  called  Stepney." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  my  father's  family  ?" 

"  No  ;  the  sergeant  was  a  tall,  handsome,  well  set-up  man ;  but 
I  know  nothing  about  his  connections.  His  name,  if  that  is  any 
help  to  you,  was — was — in  fact" — here  Lord  Jocelyn  assumed 
an  air  of  ingratiating  sweetness — "  was — Goslett — Goslett ;  not 
a  bad  name,  I  think,  pronounced  with  perhaps  a  leaning  to  an 
accent  on  the  last  syllable.     Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Harry  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  13 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  will  do.  Better  than  Bunker,  and  not  so  good 
as  Le  Breton.     As  for  my  Christian  name,  now  ?" 

"  There  I  ventured  on  one  small  variation." 

"  Am  I  not,  then,  even  Harry  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  you  are — now  ;  formerly  you  were  Harry  with- 
out the  H.  It  is  the  custom  of  the  neighborhood  in  which  you 
were  born." 

"  I  see !  If  I  go  back  among  my  own  people,  I  shall  be,  then, 
once  more  'Arry?" 

"  Yes ;  and  shout  on  penny  steamers,  and  brandish  pint  bot- 
tles of  stout,  and  sing  along  the  streets,  in  simple  abandonment 
to  Arcadian  joy ;  and  trample  on  flowers ;  and  break  pretty 
things  for  wantonness ;  and  exercise  a  rude  but  effective  wit, 
known  among  the  ancients  as  Fescennine,  upon  passing  ladies ; 
and  get  drunk  o'  nights ;  and  walk  the  streets  with  a  pipe  in 
your  mouth.  That  is  what  you  would  be,  if  you  went  back,  my 
dear  child." 

Harry  laughed. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  very  difficult  position.  I  can 
no  longer  go  about  pretending  anything ;  I  must  tell  people." 

"  Is  that  absolutely  necessary  ?" 

"Quite  necessary.  It  will  be  a  deuce  of  a  business  explain- 
ing." 

"  Shall  we  tell  it  to  one  person,  and  let  him  be  the  town- 
crier  ?" 

"  That,  I  suppose,  would  be  the  best  plan ;  meantime  I  could 
retire,  while  I  made  some  plans  for  the  future." 

"  Perhaps,  if  you  really  must  tell  the  truth,  it  would  be  well 
to  go  out  of  town  for  a  bit." 

"  As  for  myself,"  Harry  continued,  "  I  suppose  I  shall  get 
over  the  wrench  after  a  bit.  Just  for  the  moment  I  feel  knocked 
out  of  time." 

"  Keep  the  secret,  then ;  let  it  be  one  between  you  and  me 
only,  Harry  ;  let  no  one  know." 

But  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Everybody  must  know.  Those  who  refuse  to  keep  up  the 
acquaintance  of  a  private  soldier's  son — well,  then,  a  non-com- 
missioned officer's  son — will  probably  let  me  know  their  decision, 
some  way  or  other.     Those  who  do  not — "  he  paused. 

"  Nonsense,  boy  ;  who  cares  nowadays  what  a  man  is  by  birth? 


14  -ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Is  not  this  great  city  full  of  people  who  go  anywhere,  and  are 
nobody's  sons  ?  Look  here,  and  here  " — he  tossed  half  a  dozen 
cards  of  invitation  across  the  table — "  can  you  tell  me  who  theee 
people  were  twenty  years  ago — or  these — or  these  ?" 

"  No :  I  do  not  care  in  the  least  who  they  were.  I  care  only 
that  they  shall  know  who  I  am  ;  I  will  not,  for  my  part,  pretend 
to  be  what  I  am  not." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  boy.  Let  the  world  laugh  if  they 
please,  and  have  done  with  it." 

Harry  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  ;  he  certainly  did 
not  look  the  kind  of  man  to  give  in — to  try  hiding  things  away. 
Quite  the  contrary.     And  he  laughed — he  took  it  laughing. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  sound  comic  at  first,"  he  said,  "  until  people 
get  used  to  it.  '  Do  you  know  what  he  turns  out  to  be  V  That 
kind  of  thing :  after  all,  we  think  too  much  about  what  people 
say ;  what  does  it  matter  what  they  say  or  how  they  say  it  ?  If 
they  like  to  laugh,  they  can.     Who  shall  be  the  town-crier  ?" 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  slowly,  "  of  calling  to- 
day upon  Lady  Wimbledon." 

The  3'oung  man  laughed,  with  a  little  heightening  of  his  color. 

"  Of  course — a  very  good  person,  an  excellent  person,  and  to- 
morrow it  will  be  all  over  London.  There  are  one  or  two  things," 
he  went  on  after  a  moment,  "  that  I  do  not  understand  from  the 
papers  which  you  put  into  my  hands  last  night." 

"  W^hat  are  those  things  ?"  Lord  Jocelyn  for  a  moment  looked 
uneasy. 

"  Well — perhaps  it  is  impertinent  to  ask.  But — when  Mr. 
Bunker,  the  respectable  Uncle  Bunker,  traded  me  away,  what  did 
he  get  for  me  ?" 

"  Every  bargain  has  two  sides,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  *'  You 
know  what  I  got,  you  want  to  know  what  the  honorable  Bunker 
got.  Harry,  on  that  point  I  must  refer  you  to  the  gentleman 
himself." 

"  Very  good.  Then  I  come  to  the  next  difficulty — a  stag- 
gerer. What  did  you  do  it  for  ?  One  moment,  sir — "  for  Lord 
Jocelyn  seemed  about  to  reply.  "  One  moment.  You  were  rich, 
you  were  well  born,  you  were  young.  What  on  earth  made  you 
pick  a  boy  out  of  the  gutter  and  bring  him  up  like  a  gentle- 
man ?" 

"  You  are  twenty-three,  Harry,  and  yet  you  ask  for  motives. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  15 

My  dear  boy,  have  you  not  learned  the  golden  rule  ?  In  all 
human  actions  look  for  the  basest  motive,  and  attribute  that.  If 
you  see  any  reason  for  stopping  short  of  quite  the  lowest  spurs 
to  action,  such  as  revenge,  hatred,  malice,  and  envy,  suppose  the 
next  lowest,  and  you  will  be  quite  safe.  That  next  lowest  is — 
son  altesse,  ma  vanite." 

"  Oh !"  replied  Harry,  "  yet  I  fail  to  see  how  a  child  of  the 
lowest  classes  could  supply  any  satisfaction  for  even  the  next 
lowest  of  human  motives." 

"  It  was  partly  in  this  way.  Mind,  I  do  not  for  one  moment 
pretend  to  answer  the  whole  of  your  question.  Men's  motives, 
thank  Heaven,  are  so  mixed  up,  that  no  one  can  be  quite  a  saint, 
while  no  one  is  altogether  a  sinner.  Nature  is  a  leveller,  which 
is  a  comfort  to  us  who  are  born  in  levelling  times.  In  those 
days  I  was  by  way  of  being  a  kind  of  Radical.  Not  a  Radical 
such  as  those  who  delight  mankind  in  these  happier  days.  But 
I  had  Liberal  leanings,  and  thought  I  had  ideas.  AVhen  I  was  a 
boy  of  twelve  or  so,  there  were  the  '48  theories  floating  about 
the  air :  some  of  them  got  into  my  brain  and  stuck  there.  Men 
used  to  believe  that  a  great  time  was  coming — perhaps  I  heard 
a  whisper  of  it ;  perhaps  I  was  endowed  with  greater  faculty  for 
credulity  than  my  neighbors,  and  believed  in  humanity.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  seek  to  explain.  It  may  have  occurred  to  me — I 
do  not  say  it  did — but  I  have  a  kind  of  recollection  as  if  it  did 
— one  day  after  I  had  seen  you,  then  in  the  custody  of  the  re- 
spectable Bunker,  that  it  would  be  an  instructive  and  a  humor- 
ous thing  to  take  a  boy  of  the  multitude  and  bring  him  up  in  all 
the  culture,  the  tastes,  the  ideas  of  ourselves — you  and  me,  for 
instance,  Harry.  This  idea  may  have  seized  upon  me,  so  that, 
the  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  better  pleased  I  was  with  it.  I 
may  have  pictured  such  a  boy  so  taught,  so  brought  up,  with 
such  tastes,  returning  to  his  own  people.  Disgust,  I  may  have 
said,  will  make  him  a  prophet ;  and  such  a  prophet  as  the  world 
has  never  yet  seen.  He  would  be  like  a  follower  of  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Mountain.  He  would  never  cease  to  dream  of  the 
paradise  he  had  seen ;  he  would  never  cease  to  tell  of  it ;  he 
would  be  always  leading  his  friends  upward  to  the  same  levels 
on  which  he  had  once  stood." 

"  Humph  !"  said  Harry. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Lord  Jocelyn  went  on.     "  I  ought  to  have 


16  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

foretold  that  the  education  I  prepared  for  you  would  have  un- 
fitted  you  for  the  role  of  prophet.  I  am  not  disappointed  in 
you,  Harry — quite  the  reverse.  I  now  see  that  what  has  hap- 
pened has  been  only  what  I  should  have  expected.  By  some 
remarkable  accident,  you  possess  an  appearance  such  as  is  gen- 
erally believed  to  belong  to  persons  of  long-continued  gentle 
descent.  By  a  still  more  remarkable  accident,  all  your  tastes 
prove  to  be  those  of  the  cultured  classes ;  the  blood  of  the 
Bunkers  has,  in  yourself,  assumed  the  most  azure  hue." 

"  That  is  very  odd,"  said  Ilarry. 

"  It  is  a  very  remarkable  thing,  indeed,"  continued  Lord 
Jocelyn,  gravely.  "  I  have  never  ceased  to  wonder  at  this  phe- 
nomenon. However,  1  was  unable  to  send  you  to  a  public  school 
on  account  of  the  necessity,  as  I  thought,  of  concealing  your 
parentage.  But  I  gave  you  instruction  of  the  best,  and  found 
for  you  companions,  as  you  know,  among  the — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Harry.  "  My  companions  were  gentlemen,  I  sup- 
pose ;  I  learned  from  them." 

"  Perhaps.  Still,  the  earthenware  pot  cannot  become  a  brass 
pot,  whatever  he  may  pretend.  .You  were  good  metal  from  the 
beffinninff." 

"  You  are  now,  Harry,"  he  went  on,  "  three-and-twenty.  You 
are  master  of  three  foreign  languages ;  you  have  travelled  on 
the  Continent  and  in  America;  you  are  a  good  rider,  a  good 
shot,  a  good  fencer,  a  good  dancer.  You  can  paint  a  little,  fiddle 
a  little,  dance  a  great  deal,  act  pretty  well,  speak  pretty  well; 
you  can,  I  dare  say,  make  love  as  becomes  a  gentleman  ;  you  can 
write  very  fair  verses  ;  you  are  good-looking ;  you  have  the  air 
noble  ;  you  are  not  a  prig ;  you  are  not  an  aesthete  ;  you  possess 
your  share  of  common-sense." 

"  One  thing  you  have  omitted  which,  at  the  present  juncture, 
may  be  more  useful  than  any  of  these  things." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  i 

"  You  were  good  enough  to  give  me  a  lathe,  and  to  have  me 
instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  turning.  I  am  a  practical  cabinet- 
maker, if  need  be." 

"  But  why  should  this  be  of  use  to  you  ?" 

"  Because,  Lord  Jocelyn" — Harry  ran  and  leaned  over  the 
table  with  a  sweet  smile  of  determination  on  his  face — "  because 
I  am  going  back  to  my  own  people  for  a  while,  and  it  may  be 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  l7 

that  the  trade  of  cabinet-making  may  prove  a  very  backbone  of 
strength  to  me  among  them." 

"  Harry,  you  would  not,  indeed,  you  could  not,  go  back  to 
Bunker  ?"  Lord  Jocelyn  asked  this  question  with  every  outward 
appearance  of  genuine  alarm. 

"  I  certainly  would.  My  very  kind  guardian  and  patron,  would 
you  stand  in  my  way  ?  I  want  to  see  those  people  from  whom 
I  am  sprung ;  I  want  to  learn  how  they  differ  from  you  and  your 
kin.  I  must  compare  myself  with  them — I  must  prove  the 
brotherhood  of  humanity." 

"  You  will  go  ?  Yes,  I  see  you  will,  it  is  in  your  eyes.  Go 
then,  Harry.  But  return  to  me  soon.  The  slender  fortune  of  a 
younger  son  shall  be  shared  with  you  so  long  as  I  live,  and  given 
to  you  when  I  die.  Do  not  stay  among  them.  There  are,  in- 
deed— at  least,  I  suppose  so — all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men. 
But  to  me,  and  to  men  brought  up  like  you  and  me,  I  do  not  un- 
derstand how  there  can  be  any  but  one  sort  and  one  condition. 
Come  back  soon,  boy.  Believe  me — no — do  not  believe  me — • 
prove  it  yourself:  in  the  social  pyramid,  the  greatest  happi- 
ness, Harry,  lies  near  the  top." 


CHAPTER  I. 

NEWS    FOR   HIS    LORDSHIP. 


"I  HAVE  news  for  your  lordship,"  said  Mrs.  Bormalack,  at 
the  breakfast-table,  "  something  that  will  cheer  you  up  a  bit. 
We  are  to  have  an  addition  to  our  family." 

His  lordship  nodded  his  head,  meaning  that  he  would  receive 
her  news  without  more  delay  than  was  necessary,  but  that  at 
present  his  mind  was  wholly  occupied  with  a  contest  between 
one  of  his  teeth  and  a  crust.  The  tooth  was  an  outlying  one, 
all  its  lovely  companions  having  withered  and  gone,  and  it  was 
undefended ;  the  crust  was  unyielding.  For  the  moment  no 
one  could  tell  what  might  be  the  result. 

Her  ladyship  replied  for  him. 

Lady  Davenant  was  a  small  woman,  if  you  go  by  inches ; 
her  exalted  rank  gave  her,  however,  a  dignity  designed  for  very 
much  larger  persons ;  yet  she  carried  it  with  ease.     She  was  by 


18  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

no  means  young,  and  her  hair  was  thin  as  well  as  gray ;  her 
face,  which  was  oval  and  delicately  curved,  might  formerly  have 
been  beautiful ;  the  eyes  were  bright  and  eager,  and  constantly 
in  motion,  as  is  often  the  case  with  restless  and  nervous  persons ; 
her  lips  were  thin  and  as  full  of  independent  action  as  her  eyes ; 
she  had  thin  hands,  so  small  that  they  might  have  belonged  to 
a  child  of  eight ;  and  she  might  boast,  when  inclined  for  vaunt- 
ing, the  narrowest  and  most  sloping  shoulders  that  ever  were 
seen,  so  sloping  that  people  unaccustomed  to  her  were  wont 
to  tremble  lest  the  whole  of  her  dress  should  suddenly  slide 
straight  down  those  shoulders,  as  down  a  slope  of  ice ;  and 
strange  ladies,  impelled  by  this  apprehension,  had  been  known 
to  ask  her  in  a  friendly  whisper  if  she  could  thoroughly  depend 
upon  the  pins  at  her  throat.  As  Mrs,  Bormalack  often  said, 
speaking  of  her  noble  boarders  among  her  friends,  those  shoul- 
ders of  her  ladyship  were  Quite  a  Feature.  Next  to  the  pride 
of  having  at  her  table  such  guests — who,  however,  did  not  give 
in  to  the  good  old  English  custom  of  paying  double  prices  for 
having  a  title — was  the  distinction  of  pointing  to  those  unique 
shoulders  and  of  talking  about  them. 

Her  ladyship  had  a  shrill,  reedy  voice,  and  spoke  loudly.  It 
was  remarked  by  the  most  superficial  observer,  moreover,  that 
she  possessed  a  very  strong  American  accent. 

"  At  our  first  boarding-house,"  she  said,  replying  indirectly 
to  the  landlady's  remark,  "  at  our  first  boarding-house,  which 
was  in  Wellclose  Square,  next  to  the  Board  Schools,  there  was 
a  man  who  once  actually  slapped  his  lordship  on  the  back. 
And  then  he  laughed  !  To  be  sure,  he  was  only  a  Dane,  but 
the  disrespect  was  just  the  same." 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  lordship,  who  now  spoke,  having 
compromised  matters  with  the  crust,  "the  ignominy  of  be- 
ing slapped  on  the  back  by  a  powerful  sea-captain  is  hard- 
ly to  be  weighed  in  comparison  with  the  physical  pain  it 
causes." 

"  We  are  quite  sure,  however,  Mrs.  Bormalack,"  the  lady 
went  on,  "that  you  will  admit  none  under  your  roof  but  those 
prepared  to  respect  rank;  we  want  no  levellers  or  mischievous 
Radicals  for  our  companions." 

"  It  is  to  be  a  young  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Bormalack. 

"Young  ladies  at  all  events,  do  not  slap  gentlemen  on  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  19 

back,  whether  they  are  noblemen  or  not,"  said  his  lordship, 
kindly.     ''  We  shall  be  happy  to  welcome  her,  ma'am." 

This  ornament  of  the  Upper  House  was  a  big,  fat  man,  with 
a  face  like  a  full  moon.  His  features  were  not  di'Stinctly 
aristocratic ;  his  cheeks  were  flabby  and  his  nose  broad ;  also 
he  had  a  double  chin.  His  long  hair  was  a  soft,  creamy  white, 
the  kind  of  white  which  in  old  age  follows  a  manhood  of  red 
hair.  He  sat  in  an  arm-chair  at  the  end  of  the  table,  with  his 
elbows  on  the  arms,  as  if  he  desired  to  get  as  much  rest  out  of 
the  chair  as  possible.  His  eyes  were  very  soft  and  dreamy ;  his 
expression  was  that  of  a  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to 
live  in  the  quieter  parts  of  the  world.  He,  too,  spoke  with  a 
marked  American  accent  and  with  slowness,  as  if  measuring 
his  words  and  appreciating  himself  their  importance.  The  dig- 
nity of  his  manner  was  not  wholly  due  to  his  position,  but  in 
great  measure  to  his  former  profession.  For  his  lordship  had 
not  always  rejoiced  in  his  present  dignity,  nor,  in  fact,  had  he 
been  brought  up  to  it.  Persons  intending  to  become  peers 
of  Great  Britain  do  not,  as  a  rule,  first  spend  more  than  forty 
years  as  schoolmasters  in  their  native  town.  And  just  as  cler- 
gymen, and  especially  young  clergymen,  love  to  talk  loud,  be- 
cause it  makes  people  remember  that  they  are  in  the  presence 
of  those  whose  wisdom  demands  attention,  so  old  schoolmasters 
speak  slowly  because  their  words — even  the  lightest,  which  are 
usually  pretty  heavy — have  got  to  be  listened  to,  under  pen- 
alties. 

As  soon,  however,  as  he  began  to  "  enjoy  the  title,"  the  ex- 
schoolmaster  addressed  himself  with  some  care  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  a  manner  which  he  thought  due  to  his  position.  It  was 
certainly  pompous ;  it  was  intended  to  be  affable ;  it  was  nat- 
urally, because  he  was  a  man  of  a  most  kind  disposition  and  an 
excellent  heart,  courteous  and  considerate. 

"  I  am  rejoiced,  Mrs.  Bormalack,"  he  went  on,  grandly,  and 
with  a  bow,  "  that  we  are  to  be  cheered  in  our  domestic  circle 
by  the  addition  of  a  young  lady.  It  is  an  additional  proof,  if 
any  were  needed,  of  the  care  with  which  you  consider  the  hap- 
piness of  your  guests."  The  professor,  who  owed  for  five 
weeks,  murmured  that  no  one  felt  it  more  than  himself. 
•*  Sometimes,  ma'am,  I  own  that  even  with  the  delightful 
society  of  yourself  "  ("  Oh,  my  lord,  your  lordship  is  too  kind," 


20  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

said  Mrs.  Bormalack)  "  and  of  the  accomplished  professor  " — 
here  he  bowed  to  tlie  professor,  who  nodded  and  spread  out  his 
hands  professionally — "and  of  the  learned  Mr.  Daniel  Fagg" — 
here  he  bowed  to  Mr.  Fagg,  who  took  no  notice  at  all,  because 
he  was  thinking  of  his  triangles  and  was  gazing  straight  before 
him  —  "  and  of  Mr.  Josephus  Coppin  "  —  here  he  bowed  to 
Josephus  Coppin,  who  humbly  inclined  his  head  without  a 
smile,  "and  of  Mr.  Maliphant " — here  he  bowed  to  Mr.  Mai i- 
phant,  who  with  a  breakfast-knife  was  trying  to  make  a  knobbly 
crust  assume  the  shape  of  a  human  head,  in  fact,  the  head  of 
Mr,  Gladstone — "  and  of  Mr,  Harry  Goslett,  who  is  not  with  us 
so  much  as  we  could  desire  of  so  sprightly  a  young  man ;  and 
surrounded  as  we  are  by  all  the  gayety  and  dissipation  and 
splendor  of  London,  I  sometimes  suspect  that  we  are  not  al- 
ways so  cheerful  as  we  might  be." 

"  Give  me,"  said  his  wife,  folding  her  little  hands  and  look- 
ing round  her  with  a  warlike  expression,  as  if  inviting  contra- 
diction— "  give  me  Canaan  City,  New  Hampshire,  for  gayety." 

Nobody  combated  this  position,  nor  did  anybody  reply  at 
all,  unless  the  pantomime  of  the  professor  was  intended  for  a 
reply  by  gesture,  like  the  learned  Thaumast.  For,  with  pre- 
cision and  abstracted  air,  he  rolled  up  a  little  ball  of  bread, 
about  as  big  as  a  marble,  placed  it  in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand, 
closed  his  fingers  upon  it,  and  then  opened  them,  showing  that 
the  ball  had  vanished.  Then  he  executed  the  slightest  possible 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  spread  out  his  hands,  and  nodded  to 
his  lordship,  saying,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  Pretty  thing,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  I  hope,  sir,  that  she  will  be  pretty,"  said  his  lordship,  think- 
ing of  the  young  lady.  "  To  look  at  a  pretty  face  is  as  good  as 
a  day  of  sunshine." 

"  She  is  a  beautiful  girl,"  Mrs.  Bormalack  replied  with  en- 
thusiasm, "  and  I  am  sure  she  must  be  as  good  as  she  is  pretty ; 
because  she  paid  three  months  in  advance.  With  a  piano,  too, 
which  she  will  play  herself.  She  is  a  dressmaker  by  trade,  and 
she  wants  to  set  herself  up  in  a  genteel  way.  And  she's  got  a 
little  money,  she  says :"  a  sweet  smile  crossed  her  face  as  she 
thought  that  most  of  this  little  money  would  come  into  her  own 
pocket, 

"  A  dressmaker  !"  cried  her  ladyship.     "  Do  tell !  I  was  in 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN.  21 

that  line  myself  before  I  married.  That  was  long  before  we 
began  to  enjoy  the  title.  You  don't  know,  ma'am — here  she 
dropped  her  voice — "  you  don't  know  how  remarkably  fond  his 
lordship  is  of  a  pretty  face ;  choice  with  them,  too.  Not  every 
face  pleases  him.  Oh !  you  wouldn't  believe  how  particular. 
Which  shows  his  aristocratic  descent;  because  we  all  know 
what  his  ancestors  were." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  the  landlady,  nodding  significantly.  "We 
all  know  what  they  were.  Rovers  to  a  man — I  mean  a  lord. 
And  as  for  the  young  lady,  she  will  be  here  this  evening,  in 
time  for  tea.  Shrimps  and  Sally  Lunn,  my  lord.  And  her 
name  is  Miss  Kennedy.  Respectable,  if  poor ;  and  illustrious 
ancestors  is  more  than  we  can  all  of  us  have,  nor  yet  deserve." 

Here  the  professor  rose,  having  finished  his  breakfast.  One 
might  have  noticed  that  he  had  extremely  long  and  delicate 
fingers,  and  that  they  seemed  always  in  movement ;  also  that 
he  had  a  way  of  looking  at  you  as  if  he  meant  you  to  look 
straight  and  steady  into  his  eyes,  and  not  to  go  rolling  your 
eyes  about  in  the  frivolous,  irresponsible  way  affected  by  some 
people.  He  walked  slowly  to  the  window ;  then  as  if  seized 
with  an  irresistible  impulse  to  express  his  feelings  in  panto- 
mime, or  else,  it  may  be,  to  try  an  experiment,  returned  to  the 
table,  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  his  lordship's  pocket-handker- 
chief, which  w^as  a  large  red  silk  one,  well  fitted  for  the  pur- 
pose. How  he  conveyed  a  saucer  unseen  from  the  table  into 
that  handkerchief,  and  how  that  saucer  got  into  the  nobleman's 
coat-tail  pocket,  were  things  known  only  to  himself.  Yet 
familiarity  breeds  contempt,  and,  though  everybody  looked  on, 
nobody  expressed  delight  or  astonishment,  for  this  exhibition  of 
magic  and  spells  went  on  every  day,  and  whenever  the  professor 
was  among  them.  He  moved  about  accompanied,  so  to  speak, 
by  a  legion  of  invisible  attendants  and  servants,  who  conveyed, 
hid,  brought  back,  uncovered,  discovered,  recovered,  lost,  found, 
rapped,  groaned,  cried,  whistled,  sang,  moved  chairs  and  tables, 
and,  in  fact,  behaved  as  only  a  troop  of  well-drilled  elves  can 
behave.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty -five,  and  he  had  a 
great  gift  of  silence.  By  trade  he  was  a  professor  of  leger- 
demain. Other  professors  there  are  who  hold  up  the  light  of 
this  science,  and  hand  it  down  to  posterity  undimmed ;  but 
none  with  such  an  ardent  love  for   their  work  as  Professor 


22  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Cliino.  For  he  practised  all  day  long,  except  when  he  was 
reading  the  feats  of  the  illustrious  conjurers,  sorcerers,  necro- 
mancers, and  wizards  of  old  time,  or  inventing  new  combina- 
tions, traps  for  the  credulous,  and  contrivances  to  make  that 
which  was  not  seen  like  unto  that  which  was.  The  East  End 
of  London  is  not  the  richest  field  for  such  performers ;  but  he 
was  young,  and  he  lived  in  hope — very  often,  when  there  were 
no  engagements — upon  it.  At  such  times  he  became  a  simple 
lodger,  instead  of  a  boarder,  at  Mrs.  Bormalack's,  and  went  with- 
out any  meals. 

The  situation  of  this  boarding-house,  poetically  described  by 
his  lordship  as  in  the  midst  of  the  gayety  of  London,  was  in 
the  far  east,  in  that  region  of  London  which  is  less  known  to 
Englishmen  than  if  it  were  situated  in  the  wildest  part  of  Colo- 
rado, or  among  the  pine  forests  of  British  Columbia.  It  stood, 
in  fact,  upon  Stepney  Green,  a  small  strip  of  Eden  which  has 
been  visited  by  few,  indeed,  of  those  who  do  not  live  in  its 
immediate  vicinity.     Yet  it  is  a  romantic  spot. 

Two  millions  of  people,  or  thereabouts,  live  in  the  East  End 
of  London.  That  seems  a  good-sized  population  for  an  utterly 
unknown  town.  They  have  no  institutions  of  their  own  to 
speak  of,  no  public  buildings  of  any  importance,  no  municipal- 
ity, no  gentry,  no  carriages,  no  soldiers,  no  picture-galleries,  no 
theatres,  no  opera — they  have  nothing.  It  is  the  fashion  to 
believe  that  they  are  all  paupers — which  is  a  foolish  and  mis- 
chievous belief,  as  we  shall  presently  see.  Probably  there  is  no 
such  spectacle  in  the  whole  world  as  that  of  this  immense, 
neglected,  forgotten  ^reat  City  of  East  London,  It  is  even 
neglected  by  its  own  citizens,  who  have  never  yet  perceived 
their  abandoned  condition.  They  are  Londoners,  it  is  true,  but 
they  have  no  part  or  share  of  London ;  its  wealth,  its  splendors, 
its  honors  exist  not  for  them.  They  see  nothing  of  any  splen- 
dors ;  even  the  Lord  Mayor's  show  goeth  westward :  the  city 
lies  between  them  and  the  greatness  of  England.  They  are 
beyond  the  wards,  and  cannot  become  aldermen ;  the  rich  Lon- 
don merchants  go  north  and  south  and  west ;  but  they  go  not 
east.  Nobody  goes  east ;  no  one  wants  to  see  the  place ;  no 
one  is  curious  about  the  way  or  life  in  the  east.  Books  on 
London  pass  it  over ;  it  has  little  or  no  history ;  great  men  are 
not  buried  in  its  churchyards,  which  are  not  even  ancient,  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  ^3 

crowded  by  citizens  as  obscure  as  those  wbo  now  breathe  the 
upper  airs  about  them.  If  anything  happens  m  the  east,  people 
at  the  other  end  have  to  stop  and  think  before  they  can  remem- 
ber where  the  place  may  be. 

The  house  Avas  old,  built  of  red  bricks  with  a  "  shell "  decora- 
tion over  the  door.  It  contained  room  for  about  eight  boarders, 
who  had  one  sitting-room  in  common.  This  was  the  breakfast- 
room,  a  meal  at  which  all  were  present ;  the  dining-room — but 
nobody  except  his  lordship  and  his  wife  dined  at  home ;  the 
tea-room — but  tea  was  too  early  for  most  of  the  boarders — and 
the  supper-room.  After  supper  tobacco  was  tolerated.  The 
boarders  were  generally  men,  and  mostly  elderly  men  of  staid 
and  quiet  manners,  with  whom  the  evening  pipe  was  the  con- 
clusion and  solace  of  the  day.  It  was  not  like  the  perpetual 
incense  of  a  tap-room,  and  yet  the  smell  of  tobacco  was  never  ab- 
sent from  the  room,  lingering  about  the  folds  of  the  dingy  curtain, 
which  served  for  both  summer  and  winter,  clinging  to  the  horse- 
hair sofa,  to  the  leather  of  the  chairs,  and  to  the  rusty  table-cloth. 

The  furniture  was  old  and  mean.  The  wall-paper  had  once 
been  crimson,  but  was  now  only  dark ;  the  ceiling  had  for  many 
years  wanted  whitewashing  badly  ;  the  door  and  windows  want- 
ed painting ;  the  windows  ahvays  wanted  cleaning ;  the  rope  of 
one  of  the  blinds  was  broken  ;  and  the  blind  itself,  not  nearly  so 
white  as  it  might  have  been,  was  pinned  half-way  up.  Every- 
thing was  shabby ;  everything  wanted  polishing,  washing,  bright- 
ening up. 

A  couple  of  arm-chairs  stood,  when  meals  were  not  going  on, 
one  on  either  side  of  the  fireplace — one  being  reserved  for  his 
lordship,  and  the  other  for  his  wife ;  they  were,  like  the  sofa,  of 
horsehair,  and  slippery.  There  was  a  long  table  covered  by  a 
faded  red  cloth ;  the  carpet  was  a  Brussels,  once  of  a  warm 
crimson,  now  worn  threadbare ;  the  hearth-rug  was  worn  into 
holes ;  one  or  two  of  the  chairs  had  broken  out  and  showed 
glimpses  of  stuffing.  The  sideboard  was  of  old-fashioned 
build,  and  a  shiny  black  by  reason  of  its  age ;  there  were  two 
or  three  hanging  shelves  filled  with  books,  the  property  of  his 
lordship,  who  loved  reading ;  the  mantel-shelf  was  decorated  by 
a  small  collection  of  pipes ;  and  above  it  hung  a  portrait  of  the 
late  Samuel  Bormalack,  formerly  a  collector  in  the  great  brew- 
ing-house of  Messenger,  Marsden,  &  Company. 
C 


24  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

His  widow,  who  carried  on  the  house,  was  a  comfortabie,  a 
serenely  comfortable,  woman,  who  regarded  the  world  from  the 
optimist's  point  of  view.  Perfect  health  and  a  tolerably  pros- 
perous business,  where  the  returns  are  regular  though  the  profits 
are  small,  make  the  possessor  agree  with  Pope  and  Candide  that 
everything  is  for  the  best  in  this  best  of  all  possible  worlds. 
Impossible  not  to  be  contented,  happy,  and  religious,  when  your 
wishes  are  narrowed  to  a  tidy  dinner,  a  comfortable  supper  with 
a  little  something  hot,  boarders  who  pay  up  regular,  do  not 
grumble,  and  go  to  bed  sober ;  and  a  steady  hope  that  you  will 
not  "  get  something,"  by  which,  of  course,  is  meant  that  you 
may  not  fall  ill  of  any  disagreeable  or  painful  disease.  To 
"  get  something  "  is  one  of  the  pretty  euphemisms  of  our  daily 
speech. 

She  had  had  one  or  two  unlucky  accidents,  such  as  the  case 
of  Captain  Saffrey,  who  stayed  two  months,  and  drank  enough 
beer  to  float  a  three-decker,  and  then  sailed  away,  promising  to 
pay,  and  would  have  done  so — for  he  was  an  honest  man — but 
had  the  misfortune  to  fall  overboard  while  in  liquor.  But  her 
present  boarders  seemed  most  respectable,  and  she  was  at  ease. 

Of  course,  the  persons  of  greatest  consideration  among  them 
were  the  noble  pair  who  enjoyed  the  title.  Eank  is  respected, 
if  you  please,  even  at  the  East  End  of  London,  and  perhaps 
more  there  than  in  fashionable  quarters,  because  it  is  so  rare. 
King  John,  it  is  true,  had  once  a  palace  at  Stepney  ;  but  that  is 
a  long  time  to  look  back  upon,  and  even  the  oldest  inhabitant 
can  now  not  remember  to  have  been  kicked  by  the  choleric 
monarch.  Then  the  ^Marquis  of  Worcester  had  once  a  great 
house  here,  what  time  the  sainted  Charles  was  ripening  things 
for  a  row  royal.  That  house  is  gone  too,  and  I  do  not  know 
where  it  used  to  stand.  From  the  time  of  this  East  End  mar- 
quis to  the  arrival  of  Lord  and  Lady  Davenant,  last  year,  there 
have  been  no  resident  members  of  the  English  aristocracy,  and 
no  member  of  the  foreign  nobility,  with  the  exception  of  a  cer- 
tain dusky  Marquis  of  Choufleur,  from  Hayti,  who  is  reported 
on  good  authority  to  have  once  lived  in  these  parts  for  six 
months,  thinking  he  was  in  the  politest  and  most  fashionable 
suburb  of  London.  He  is  further  said  to  have  carried  on  with 
Satanic  wildness  in  Limehouse  and  the  West  India  Dock  Road 
of  an  evening.    A  Japanese,  too,  certainly  once  went  to  a  hotel 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  25 

in  America  Square,  which  is  not  quite  the  East  End,  and  said 
he  was  a  prince  in  his  own  country.  He  stayed  a  week,  and 
drank  champagne  all  day  long.  Then  he  decamped  without 
paying  the  bill ;  and,  when  the  landlord  went  to  the  Embassy 
to  complain,  he  thought  it  was  the  ambassador  himself,  until 
he  discovered  that  all  Japanese  are  exactly  alike.  Wherefore 
he  desisted  from  any  further  attempt  to  identify  the  missing 
prince,  for  want  of  the  missing  link — namely,  some  distinctive 
feature. 

The  illustrious  pair  had  now  been  in  the  house  for  six  weeks. 
Previously  they  had  spent  some  time  in  "Wellclose  Square,  which 
is,  no  doubt,  well  known  to  fashionable  readers,  and  lies  con- 
tiguous to  St.  George's  Street.  Here  happened  that  accident  of 
the  back-slapping  so  feelingly  alluded  to  by  her  ladyship.  They 
were  come  from  America  to  take  up  an  old  family  title  which 
had  been  in  abeyance  for  two  or  three  generations.  They  ap- 
peared to  be  poor,  but  able  to  find  the  modest  weekly  sum 
asked  by  Mrs.  Bormalack ;  and  in  order  to  secure  her  confidence 
and  good-will,  they  paid  every  week  in  advance.  They  drank 
nothing  but  water,  but,  to  make  up,  his  lordship  ate  a  great  deal, 
especially  at  breakfast,  and  they  asked  for  strange  things,  un- 
known to  English  households.  In  other  respects  they  gave  no 
kind  of  trouble,  were  easily  satisfied,  never  grumbled,  and  were 
affable.  For  their  rank  they  certainly  dressed  shabbily,  but 
high  social  station  is  sometimes  found  coupled  with  eccen- 
tricity. Doubtless  Lord  Davenant  had  his  reasons  for  going 
about  in  a  coat  white  at  the  seams  and  shiny  at  the  back, 
which,  being  made  of  sympathetic  stuff,  and  from  long  habit, 
had  assumed  the  exact  shape  of  his  noble  back  and  shoulders, 
with  a  beautiful  model  of  his  illustrious  elbows.  For  similarly 
good  and  sufl[icient  reasons  Lady  Davenant  wore  that  old  black 
gown  and  those  mended  gloves  and — but  it  is  cruel  to  enumer- 
ate the  shortcomings  of  her  attire. 

Perhaps,  on  account  of  his  public  character,  the  professor 
would  rank  in  the  house  after  his  lordship.  Nothing  confers 
greatness  more  quickly  than  an  unabashed  appearance  upon  a 
platform.  Mr.  Maliphant,  however,  who  had  travelled  and  could 
relate  tales  of  adventure,  might  dispute  precedence  with  him. 
He  was  now  a  carver  of  figure-heads  for  ships.  It  is  an  old  and 
honorable  trade,  but  in  these  latter  days  it  has  decayed.     He 


26  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

had  a  small  yard  at  Limehouse,  where  he  worked  all  by  himself, 
turning  out  heads  in  the  rough,  so  that  they  might  be  trans- 
formed into  a  beauteous  goddess,  or  a  Saucy  Poll,  or  a  bearded 
Neptune,  as  the  owners  might  prefer.  lie  was  now  an  old  man, 
with  a  crumbled  and  million-lined  face,  but  active  still  and  talk- 
ative. His  memory  played  him  tricks,  and  he  took  little  inter- 
est in  new  things.  He  had  a  habit,  too,  which  disconcerted 
people  unaccustomed  to  him,  of  thinking  one  part  of  a  reminis- 
cence to  himself  and  saying  the  rest  aloud,  so  that  one  got  only 
the  torso  or  mangled  trunk  of  the  story,  or  the  head,  or  the  feet, 
with  or  without  the  tail,  which  is  the  point. 

The  learned  Daniel  Fagg,  wrapped  always  in  contemplation, 
was  among  them,  but  not  of  them.  He  was  lately  arrived  from 
Australia,  bringing  with  him  a  discovery  which  took  away  the 
breath  of  those  who  heard  it,  and  filled  all  the  scholars  and 
learned  men  of  Europe  with  envy  and  hatred,  so  that  they  com- 
bined and  formed  a  general  conspiracy  to  keep  him  down,  and 
to  prevent  the  publication  of  his  great  book,  lest  the  world 
should  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  them,  and  laugh  at  the 
blindness  of  its  great  ones.  Daniel  himself  said  so,  and  an  op- 
pressed man  generally  knows  his  oppressor.  He  went  away 
every  morning  after  breakfast,  and  returned  for  tea.  He  was 
believed  to  occupy  the  day  in  spreading  a  knowledge  of  his 
discovery,  the  nature  of  which  was  unknown  at  the  boarding- 
house,  among  clergymen  and  other  scholars.  In  the  evening  he 
sat  over  a  Hebrew  Bible  and  a  dictionary,  and  spoke  to  no  one. 
A  harmless  man,  but  soured  and  disappointed  with  the  cold 
reception  of  his  great  discovery. 

Another  boarder  was  the  unfortunate  Josephus  Coppin,  who 
was  a  clerk  in  the  great  brewing-house  of  Messenger,  Marsden, 
&  Company.  He  had  been  there  for  forty  years,  being  now 
fifty-five  years  of  age,  gray,  and  sad  of  face,  because,  for  some 
reason  unknown  to  the  world,  he  was  not  advanced,  but  re- 
mained forever  among  the  juniors  at  a  salary  of  thirty  shillings 
a  week.  .  Other  men  of  his  own  standing  were  chief  brewers, 
collectors,  and  chief  accountants.  He  was  almost  where  he  had 
started.  The  young  men  came  and  mounted  the  ladder  of  pro- 
motion, passing  him  one  after  the  other ;  he  alone  remained  at 
the  rung  which  he  had  reached  one  day,  now  thirty  years  by- 
gone, when  a  certain  thing  happened,  the  consequences  of  which 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  27 

were  to  keep  him  down,  to  ruin  his  prospects,  to  humiliate  and 
degrade  him,  to  sadden  and  embitter  his  whole  life.  Lastly, 
there  was  a  young  man,  the  only  young  man  among  them,  one 
Harry  Goslett  by  name,  who  had  quite  recently  joined  the 
boarding-house.  He  was  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Coppin,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  be  looking  for  a  place  of  business. 

But  he  was  an  uncertain  boarder.  He  paid  for  his  dinner, 
but  never  dined  at  home ;  he  had  brought  with  him  a  lathe, 
which  he  set  up  in  a  little  garden-house,  and  here  he  worked  by 
himself,  but  in  a  fitful,  lazy  way,  as  if  it  mattered  nothing  wheth- 
er he  worked  or  not.  He  seemed  to  prefer  strolling  about  the 
place,  looking  around  him  as  if  he  had  never  seen  things  before, 
and  he  was  wont  to  speak  of  familiar  objects  as  if  they  were 
strange  and  rare.  These  eccentricities  were  regarded  as  due  to 
his  having  been  to  America.  A  handsome  young  man  and 
cheerful,  which  made  it  a  greater  pity  that  he  was  so  idle. 

On  this  morning  the  first  to  start  for  the  day's  business  was 
Daniel  Fagg.  He  put  his  Hebrew  Bible  on  the  book-shelf,  took 
out  a  memorandum-book  and  the  stump  of  a  pencil,  made  an 
entry,  and  then  counted  out  his  money,  which  amounted  to 
eight -and -sixpence,  with  a  sigh.  He  was  a  little  man,  about 
sixty  years  of  age,  and  his  thin  hair  was  sandy  in  color.  His 
face  was  thin,  and  he  looked  hungry  and  underfed.  I  believe, 
in  fact,  that  he  seldom  had  money  enough  for  dinner,  and  so 
went  without.  Nothing  was  remarkable  in  his  face,  except  a 
pair  of  very  large  and  thick  eyebrows,  also  of  sandy  hue,  which 
is  unusual,  and  produces  a  very  curious  effect.  With  these  he 
was  wont  to  frown  tremendously  as  he  went  along,  frightening 
the  little  children  into  fits ;  when  he  was  not  frowning,  he  looked 
dejected.  It  must  have  been  an  unhappy  condition  of  things 
which  made  the  poor  man  thus  alternate  between  wrath  and  de- 
pression. There  were,  however,  moments — those  when  he  got 
hold  of  a  new  listener — in  which  he  would  light  up  with  enthu- 
siasm as  he  detailed  the  history  of  his  discovery.  Then  the 
thin,  drawn  cheek  would  fill  out,  and  his  quivering  lips  would 
become  firm,  and  his  dejected  eyes  would  brighten  with  the  old 
pride  of  discovery ;  and  he  would  laugh  once  more,  and  rub 
his  hands  with  pride,  when  he  described  the  honest  sympathy 
of  the  people  in  the  Australian  township,  where  he  first  an- 
nounced the  great  revelation  he  was  to  make  to  the  world,  and 


28  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

received  their  enthusiastic  cheers  and  shouts  of  encourage^ 
ment. 

Harry  Goslett  was  his  last  listener,  and,  as  the  enthusiast 
thought,  his  latest  convert. 

As  Daniel  passed  out  of  the  dining-room,  and  was  looking 
for  his  hat  among  a  collection  of  hats  as  bad  as  was  ever  seen 
out  of  Canadian  backwoods,  Harry  Goslett  himself  came  down- 
stairs, his  hands  in  his  pockets,  as  slowly  and  lazily  as  if  there 
were  no  such  thing  as  work  to  do  or  time  to  keep.  He  laughed 
and  nodded  to  the  discoverer. 

"  Oho !  Dan'l,"  he  said ;  "  how  are  the  triangles  ?  and  are  you 
really  going  back  to  the  Lion's  Den  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Goslett,  I  am  going  back  there  !  I  am  not  afraid 
of  them ;  I  am  going  to  see  the  head  of  the  Egyptian  depart- 
ment. He  says  he  will  give  me  a  hearing;  they  all  said  they 
would,  and  they  have.  But  they  won't  listen :  it's  no  use  to 
hear  unless  you  listen.  What  a  dreadful  thing  is  jealousy 
among  the  learned,  Mr.  Goslett  1" 

"It  is,  indeed,  my  prophet;  have  they  subscribed  to  the 
book?" 

"  No !  they  won't  subscribe.  Is  it  likely  that  they  will  help 
to  bring  out  a  work  which  proves  them  all  wrong  ?  Come,  sir, 
even  at  your  age  you  can't  think  so  well  of  poor  humanity." 

"Daniel" — the  young  man  laid  his  hands  impressively  upon 
the  little  man's  shoulders — "  you  showed  me  yesterday  a  list  of 
forty-five  subscribers  to  your  book,  at  twelve  shillings  and  six- 
pence apiece.      Where  is  that  subscription  money?'''' 

The  poor  man  blushed,  and  hung  his  head. 

"  A  man  must  live,"  he  said  at  length,  trying  to  frown  fiercely. 

"  Yes,  but  unpleasant  notice  is  sometimes  taken  of  the  way 
in  which  people  live,  my  dear  friend.  This  is  not  a  free  coun- 
try ;  not  by  any  means  free.  If  I  were  you  I  would  take  the  tri- 
angles back  to  Australia,  and  print  the  book  there,  among  your 
friends." 

"  No !"  The  little  man  stamped  on  the  ground,  and  rammed 
his  head  into  his  hat  with  determination.  "No,  Mr.  Goslett, 
and  no  again.  It  shall  be  printed  here.  I  will  hurl  it  at  the 
head  of  the  so-called  scholars  here,  in  London — in  their  strong- 
hold, close  to  the  British  Museum.  Besides  " — here  he  relaxed, 
and  turned  a  pitiful  face  of  sorrow  and  shame  upon  his  adviser 


ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  29 

— "  besides,  can  I  forget  the  day  when  I  left  Australia  ?  They 
all  came  aboard  to  say  good-bye.  The  papers  had  paragraphs 
about  it.  They  shouted  one  after  the  other,  and  nobblcrs  went 
around  surprising,  and  they  slapped  me  on  the  back  and  said, 
'  Go,  Daa'l,'  or  '  Go,  Fagg,'  or  '  Go,  Mr.  Fagg,'  according  to  their 
intimacy  and  the  depth  of  their  friendship — 'Go  where  honor 
and  glory  and  a  great  fortune,  with  a  pension  on  the  queen's 
civil  list,  are  waiting  for  you.'  On  the  voyage  I  even  dreamed 
of  a  title ;  I  thought  Sir  Daniel  Fagg,  knight  or  baronet,  or  the 
Right  "Reverend  Lord  Fagg,  would  sound  well  to  go  back  to 
Australia  with.  Honor  ?  Glory  ?  Fortune  ?  where  are  they  ? 
Eight-and-sixpence  in  my  pocket ;  and  the  head  of  the  Greek 
department  calls  me  a  fool,  because  I  won't  acknowledge  that 
truth  —  yes,  truth — is  error.  Laughs  at  the  triangles,  Mr. 
Goslett !" 

He  laughed  bitterly  and  went  out,  slamming  the  door  behind 
him. 

Then  Harry  entered  the  breakfast-room,  nodding  pleasantly 
to  everybody ;  and,  without  any  apology  for  lateness,  as  if 
breakfast  could  be  kept  about  all  the  morning  to  suit  his  con- 
venience, sat  down  and  began  to  eat.  Jonathan  Coppin  got  up, 
sighed,  and  went  away  to  his  brewery.  The  professor  looked 
at  the  last  comer  with  a  meditative  air,  as  if  he  would  like  to 
make  him  disappear,  and  could  do  it  too,  but  was  uncertain  how 
Harry  would  take  it.  Mrs.  Bormalack  hurried  away  on  domes- 
tic business.  Mr.  Maliphant  laughed  and  rubbed  his  hands  to- 
gether, and  then  laughed  again  as  if  he  were  thinking  of  some- 
thing really  comic,  and  said,  "  Yes,  I  knew  the  sergeant  very 
well ;  a  well-set-up  man  he  was,  and  Caroline  Coppin  was  a 
pretty  girl."  At  this  point  his  face  clouded  and  his  eyes  ex- 
pressed doubt.  "  There  was,"  he  added,  '*  something  I  wanted 
to  ask  you,  young  man,  something" — here  he  tapped  his  fore- 
head— "  something  about  your  father  and  your  mother,  or  both; 
but  I  have  forgotten  —  never  mind.  Another  time  —  another 
time." 

He  ran  away  with  boyish  activity  and  a  schoolboy's  laugh, 
being  arrived  at  that  time  of  life  when  one  becomes  light  of 
heart  once  more,  knowing  by  experience  that  nothing  matters 
very  much.  There  were  none  left  in  the  room  but  the  couple 
who  enjoyed  the  title. 


so  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

His  lordship  sat  in  his  arm-chair,  apparently  enjoying  it,  in 
meditation  and  repose  :  this,  one  perceives,  is  quite  the  best  way 
of  enjoying  an  hereditary  title,  if  you  come  to  it  late  in  life. 

His  wife  had  meanwhile  got  out  a  little,  shabby  portfolio  in 
black  leather,  and  was  turning  over  the  papers  with  impatience ; 
now  and  then  -she  looked  up  to  see  whether  this  late  young  man 
liad  finished  his  breakfast.  She  fidgeted,  arranged,  and  worried 
with  her  papers,  so  that  any  one,  whose  skull  was  not  six  inches 
thick,  might  have  seen  that  she  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her 
husband.  It  was  also  quite  clear  to  those  who  thought'  about 
things,  and  watched  this  little  lady,  that  there  may  be  meaning 
in  certain  proverbial  expressions  touching  gray  mares. 

Presently  Harry  Goslett  finished  his  coffee,  and,  paying  no 
attention  to  her  little  ladyship's  signals  of  distress,  began  to 
open  up  conversation  on  general  subjects  with  the  noble  lord. 

She  could  bear  it  no  longer.  Here  were  the  precious  mo- 
ments wasted  and  thrown  away,  every  one  of  which  should  be 
bringing  them  nearer  to  the  recognition  of  their  rights. 

"  Young  man,"  she  cried,  jumping  up  in  her  chair,  "  if  you've 
got  nothing  to  do  but  to  loll  and  lop  around  all  forenoon,  I 
guess  we  hev,  and  this  is  the  room  in  which  we  do  that  work." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Lady  Davenant — " 

"  Young  man — git — " 

She  pointed  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER   IL 

A    VERY    COMPLETE    CASE. 


His  lordship,  left  alone  with  his  wife,  manifested  certain 
signs  of  uneasiness.  She  laid  the  portfolio  on  the  table,  turned 
over  the  papers,  sorted  some  of  them,  picked  out  some  for  ref- 
erence, fetched  the  ink,  and  placed  the  penholder  in  position. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  no  time  to  lose.  Let  us  set  to 
work  in  earnest." 

His  lordship  sighed.  He  was  sitting  with  his  fat  hands  upon 
his  knees,  contented  with  the  repose  of  the  moment. 

"  Clara  Martha,"  he  grumbled,  "  cannot  I  have  one  hour  of 
rest?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  31 

"  Not  one  till  you  get  your  rights,"  She  hovered  over  him 
like  a  little  falcon,  fierce  and  persistent.  "Not  one.  What? 
You  a  British  peer  ?  You  who  ought  to  be  sitting  with  a  coro- 
net on  your  head — you  to  shrink  from  the  trouble  of  writing  out 
your  case  ?     And  such  a  case  ?" 

He  only  moaned.     Certainly  he  was  a  very  lethargic  person. 

"  You  are  not  the  carpenter,  your  father.  Nor  even  the 
wheelwright,  your  grandfather,  who  came  down  of  his  own  ac- 
cord. You  would  rise,  you  would  soar — ^you  have  the  spirit  of 
your  ancestors." 

He  feebly  flapped  with  his  elbows,  as  if  he  really  would  like 
to  take  a  turn  in  the  air,  but  made  no  verbal  response. 

"  Cousin  Nathaniel,"  she  went  on, "  gave  us  six  months  at  six 
dollars  a  week.  That's  none  too  generous  of  Nathaniel,  seeing 
we  have  no  children,  and  he  will  be  the  heir  to  the  title.  I 
guess  Aurelia  Tucker  set  him  against  the  thing.  Six  months, 
and  three  of  them  gone  already,  and  nothing  done.  What  would 
Aurelia  say  if  we  went  home  again,  beaten  ?" 

The  little  woman  gasped,  and  would  have  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders, but  they  were  such  a  long  way  down — shoulders  so  sloping 
could  not  be  shrugged. 

Her  remonstrances  moved  the  heavy  man,  who  drew  his  chair 
to  the  table  with  great  deliberation. 

"  We  are  here,"  she  continued — always  the  exhorter  and  the 
strengthener  of  faith — "not  to  claim  a  title,  but  to  assume  it. 
We  shall  present  our  case  to  Parliament,  or  the  queen,  or  the 
House  of  Lords,  or  the  Court  of  Chancery,  or  whosoever  is  the 
right  person,  and  we  shall  say,  'I  am  Lord  Davenant.'  That 
is  all." 

"  Clara  Martha,"  said  her  husband,  "  I  wish  that  were  all  we 
had  to  do.  And,  on  the  whole,  I  would  as  soon  be  back  in  Ca- 
naan City,  New  Hampshire,  and  the  trouble  over.  The  memo- 
randa are  all  here,"  he  said.  "  Can't  we  get  some  one  else  to 
draw  up  the  case  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  You  must  do  it.  Why,  you  used  to  think 
nothing  of  writing  out  a  Fourth-of-July  speech." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  And  you  know  that  you  have  often  said  yourself  that  there 
wasn't  a  book  written  that  could  teach  you  anything  up  to  quad- 
ratic equations.     And  self-raised,  too  !" 


82  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  It  isn't  tliat,  Clara  Martha.  It  isn't  tliat.  Listen  " — lie  sank 
his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "  Ifs  the  doubt.  That's  the  point. 
Every  time  I  face  that  doubt  it's  like  a  bucket  of  cold  water 
down  my  back." 

She  shivered.     Yes :  there  was  always  the  doubt. 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  she  said,  presently  ;  "  we  must  get  the  case 
drawn  up,  so  that  any  one  may  read  it.  That  is  the  first  thing 
— never  think  of  any  doubt." 

He  took  up  one  of  the  loose  papers,  which  was  covered  with 
writing. 

"  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant,"  he  read,  with  a  weary  sigh, 
"  died  at  Canaan  City,  New  Hampshire,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  ninety-four.  By  trade  he  was 
a  wheelwright.  His  marriage  is  recorded  in  the  church  register 
of  July  1,  1773.  .  His  headstone  still  stands  in  the  old  church- 
yard, and  says  that  he  was  born  in  England  in  the  year  one 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  thirty-two — it  does  not  say  where 
he  was  born — and  that  he  was  sixty-two  years  of  age  at  the  day 
of  his  death.     Also,  that  long  time  he  bore — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  you  needn't  put  that  in.  Go  on  with  your 
case.  The  next  point  is  your  own  father.  Courage,  my  dear ; 
it  is  a  very  strong  case." 

"The  case  is  very  strong."  His  lordship  plucked  up  cour- 
age, and  took  up  another  paper.  "  This  is  my  father's  record. 
All  is  clear:  Born  in  Canaan  City  on  October  10, 1776,  the  year 
of  Independence,  the  eldest  son  of  the  aforesaid  Timothy  Clithe- 
roe Davenant,  wheelwright,  and  Dinah  his  wife — here  is  a  copy 
of  the  register.  Married  on  May  13,  1810,  which  was  late  in 
life,  because  he  didn't  somehow  get  on  so  fast  as  some,  to  Su- 
sanna Pegley,  of  the  same  parish.  Described  as  a  carpenter — 
but  a  poor  workman,  Clara  Martha,  and  fond  of  chopping  yams, 
in  which  he  was  equalled  by  none.  He  died  in  the  year  1830, 
his  tombstone  still  standing,  like  his  father's  before  him.  It 
eays  that  his  end  was  peace.  Wal — he  always  wanted  it.  Give 
him  peace,  with  a  chair  in  the  veranda,  and  a  penknife  and  a 
little  bit  of  pine,  and  he  asked  for  no  more.  Only  that,  and  his 
wife  wouldn't  let  him  have  it.     His  end  was  peace." 

"You  all  want  peace,"  said  his  wife.  "The  Davenants  al- 
ways did  think  that  they  only  had  to  sit  still  and  the  plums 
would  drop  into  their  mouths.     As  for  you,  I  believe  you'd  be 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  33 

content  to  sit  and  sit  in  Canaan  City  till  Queen  Victoria  found 
you  out  and  sent  you  the  coronet  herself.  But  you've  got  a 
wife  as  well  as  your  father." 

"  I  hev,"  he  said,  with  another  sigh.  "  Perhaps  we  were 
wrong  to  come  over — I  think  I  was  happier  in  the  schoolroom, 
when  the  boys  were  gone  hum.  It  was  very  quiet  there,  for  a 
sleep  in  the  afternoon  by  the  stove.  And  in  summer  the  trees 
looked  harnsome  in  the  sunlight." 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently. 
•    "  Come,"  she  cried,  "  where  are  the  *  Recollections '  of  your 
grandfather  ?" 

He  found  another  paper,  and  read  it  slowly. 

"  My  grandfather  died  before  I  was  born.  My  father,  how- 
ever, said  that  he  used  to  throw  out  hints  about  his  illustrious 
family,  and  that  if  he  chose  to  go  back  to  England  some  people 
would  be  very  much  surprised.  But  he  never  explained  him- 
self. Also,  he  would  sometimes  speak  of  a  great  English  estate, 
and  once  he  said  that  the  freedom  of  a  wheelwright  was  better 
than  the  gilded  chains  of  a  British  aristocrat — that  was  at  a 
Fourth-of-July  meetin'." 

"  Men  talk  wild  at  meetin's,"  said  his  wife.  "  Still,  there 
may  have  been  a  meaniii'  behind  it.  Go  on,  Timothy — I  mean, 
my  lord." 

"  As  for  my  father,  it  pleased  him,  when  he  could  put  up  his 
feet  and  crack  with  his  friends,  to  brag  of  his  great  connections 
in  England.  But  he  never  knew  rightly  who  they  were,  and  he 
was  too  peaceful  and  restful  a  creature  to  take  steps  to  find  out." 

"  Waitin'  for  King  George,"  observed  his  wife.  "  Just  what 
you  would  be  doin'  but  for  me." 

"That's  all  the  recollection.    Here  comes  my  own  declaration: 

" '  I,  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant,  make  affidavit  on  oath,  if 
necessary — but  I  am  not  quite  clear  as  to  the  righteousness  of 
swearing — that  I  am  the  son  of  the  late  Timothy  Clitheroe  Da- 
venant, sometime  carpenter  of  the  city  of  Canaan,  New  Hamp- 
shire, U.S.A.,  and  Susanna  his  wife,  both  now  deceased ;  that  I 
was  born  in  the  year  of  grace  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
fifteen,  and  that  I  have  been  for  forty  years  a  teacher  in  my  na- 
tive town.'  That  is  all  clean  and  above  board,  Clara  Martha; 
no  weak  point  so  far,  father  to  son,  marriage  certificates  regu- 
larly found  and  baptism  registers.    No  one  can  ask  more.    '  Fur- 


34  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

ther,  I,  the  above-named  Timothy,  do  claim  to  be  the  lawful  and 
legitimate  heir  to  the  ancient  barony  of  Davenant,  supposed  to 
be  extinct  in  the  year  1V83  by  the  death  of  the  last  lord  without 
male  issue.'  Legally  worded,  I  think,"  he  added,  with  a  proud 
smile. 

"  Yes,  it  reads  right.     Now  for  the  connection." 

"Oh,  the  connection."  His  lordship's  face  clouded  over. 
His  consort,  however,  awaited  the  explanation,  for  the  thou- 
sandth time,  in  confidence.  Where  the  masculine  mind  found 
doubt  and  uncertainty,  the  quick  woman's  intellect,  ready  to  be^ 
lieve,  and  tenacious  of  faith,  had  jumped  to  certainty. 

"  The  connection  is  this."    He  took  up  another  paper  and  read  : 

" '  The  last  Lord  Davenant  had  one  son  only,  a  boy  named 
Timothy  Clitheroe.  All  the  eldest  sons  of  the  house  were  named 
Timothy  Clitheroe,  just  as  all  the  Ashleys  are  named  Anthony. 
When  the  boy  arrived  at  years  of  maturity  he  was  sent  on  the 
grand  tour,  which  he  made  with  a  tutor.  On  returning  to  Eng- 
land, it  is  believed  he  had  some  difference  with  his  father,  the 
nature  of  which  has  never  been  ascertained.  He  then  embarked 
upon  a  ship  sailing  for  the  American  Colonies.  Nothing  more 
was  ever  heard  about  him,  no  news  came  to  his  father  or  his 
friends,  and  he  was  supposed  to  be  dead.' " 

"  Even  the  ship  was  never  heard  of,"  added  her  ladyship,  as 
if  this  was  a  fact  which  would  greatly  help  in  lengthening  the 
life  of  the  young  man. 

"  That,  too,  was  never  heard  of  again.  If  she  had  not  been 
thrown  away  we  might  have  learned  what  became  of  the  Honor- 
able Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant."  There  was  some  confusion  of 
ideas  here,  which  the  ex-schoolmaster  was  not  slow  to  perceive. 

"  I  mean,"  he  tried  to  explain,  "  that  if  she  got  safe  to  Bos- 
ton, the  young  man  would  have  landed  there,  and  all  would  be 
comparatively  clear.  Whereas,  if  she  was  cast  away,  we  must 
now  suppose  that  he  was  saved  and  got  ashore  somehow." 

"Like  St.  Paul,"  she  cried,  triumphantly,  "on  a  piece  of 
wreck — what  could  be  more  simple  ?" 

<<  Because,"  her  husband  continued,  "  there  is  one  fact  which 
proves  that  he  did  get  ashore,  that  he  concluded  to  stay  there, 
that  he  descended  so  far  in  the  social  scale  as  to  become  a 
wheelwright ;  and  that  he  lived  and  died  in  the  town  of  Canaan, 
l^ew  Hampshire." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  35 

"  Go  on,  my  dear.  Make  it  clear.  Put  it  strong.  This  is 
the  most  interesting  point  of  all." 

"  '  And  this  young  man,  who  was  supposed  to  be  cast  away  in 
the  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty-four,  aged  twen- 
ty-two, was  exactly  the  same  age  as  my  grandfather,  Timothy 
Clitheroe  Davenant,  who  bore  the  same  name,  which  is  proved  by 
the  headstone  and  the  church  books.'  " 

"  Could  there,"  asked  his  wife,  springing  to  her  feet,  "  could 
there  have  been  two  Englishmen —  ?" 

"  Of  the  same  illustrious  and  historic  surname,  both  in  Amer- 
ica ?"  replied  her  husband,  roused  into  a  flabby  enthusiasm. 

"  Of  the  same  beautiful  Christian  name — two  Timothys  ?" 

"  Born  both  in  the  same  year  ?" 

The  little  woman  with  the  bright  eyes  and  the  sloping  shoul- 
ders threw  her  arms  about  her  husband's  neck. 

"  You  shall  have  your  rights,  my  dear,"  she  said ;  "  I  will 
live  to  see  you  sitting  in  the  House  of  Lords  with  the  hereditary 
statesmen  of  England.  If  there  is  justice  in  the  land  of  Eng- 
land you  shall  have  your  rights.  There  is  justice,  I  am  sure, 
and  equal  law  for  poor  and  rich,  and  encouragements  for  the 
virtuous.  Yes,  my  dear,  the  virtuous.  Whatever  your  faults 
may  be,  your  virtues  are  many,  and  it  can't  but  do  the  House 
of  Lords  good  to  see  a  little  virtue  among  them.  Not  that  I 
hold  with  Aurelia  Tucker  that  the  English  House  of  Lords  are 
wallowers  in  sin  ;  whereas,  Irene  Pascoe  once  met  a  knight  on  a 
missionary  platform  and  found  he'd  got  religion.  But  virtue 
you  can  never  have  too  much  of.  Courage,  my  lord ;  forget 
the  carpenter,  and  think  only  of  the  nobleman,  your  grand- 
father, who  condescended  to  become  a  wheelwright." 

He  obediently  took  up  the  pen  and  began.  When  he  seemed 
fairly  absorbed  in  the  task  of  copying  out  and  stating  the  case 
she  left  him.  As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  he  heaved  a  gen- 
tle sigh,  pushed  back  his  chair,  put  up  his  feet  upon  another 
chair,  covered  his  head  with  his  red  silk  pocket-handkerchief — 
for  there  were  flies  in  the  room — and  dropped  into  a  gentle 
slumber.  The  carpenter  was,  for  the  moment,  above  the  conde- 
scending wheelwright. 


36  ALL    SORTS   AND    CONDITIONS   OF   MEN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ONLY     A     DRESSMAKER. 

Harry  Goslett  returned  to  the  boarding-house  that  evening 
in  a  mood  of  profound  dejection;  he  had  spent  a  few  hours 
with  certain  cousins,  whose  acquaintance  he  was  endeavoring  to 
make.  "  Hitherto,"  he  said,  writing  to  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  the  soil 
seems  hardly  worth  cultivating."  In  this  he  spoke  hastily,  be- 
cause every  man's  mind  is  worth  cultivating  as  soon  as  you  find 
out  the  things  best  fitted  to  grow  in  it.  But  some  minds  will 
only  grow  turnips,  while  others  will  produce  the  finest  straw- 
berries. 

The  cousins,  for  their  part,  did  not  as  yet  take  to  the  new  ar- 
rival, whom  they  found  difficult  to  understand — his  speech  was 
strange,  his  manner  stranger ;  these  peculiarities,  they  thought 
in  their  ignorance,  were  due  to  residence  in  the  United  States, 
where  Harry  had  found  it  expedient  to  place  most  of  his  previ- 
ous years.  Conversation  was  difficult  between  two  rather  jeal- 
ous workmen  and  a  brother  artisan,  who  greatly  resembled  the 
typical  swell — an  object  of  profound  dislike  and  suspicion  to 
the  working  classes. 

He  had  now  spent  some  three  weeks  among  his  kinsfolk.  He 
brought  with  him  some  curiosity,  but  little  enthusiasm.  At  first 
he  was  interested  and  amused ;  rapidly  he  became  bored  and 
disgusted :  for  as  yet  he  saw  only  the  outside  of  things.  There 
was  an  uncle,  Mr.  Benjamin  Bunker,  the  study  of  whom,  regard- 
ed as  anybody  else's  uncle,  would  have  been  pleasant.  Consid- 
ered as  his  own  connection  by  marriage — Benjamin  and  the  late 
Sergeant  Goslett  having  married  sisters — he  was  too  much  in- 
clined to  be  ashamed  of  him.  The  two  cousins  seemed  to  him 
— as  yet  he  knew  them  very  little — a  pair  of  sulky,  ill-bred 
young  men,  who  had  taken  two  opposite  lines,  neither  of  which 
was  good  for  social  intercourse.  The  people  of  the  boarding- 
house  continued  to  amuse  him,  partly  because  they  were  in  a 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  37 

way  afraid  of  liim.  As  for  the  place — he  looked  about  him, 
standing  at  the  north  entrance  of  Stepney  Green — on  the  left 
hand,  the  Whitcchapel  Road  ;  behind  him,  Stepney,  Limehouse, 
St.  George's  in  the  East,  Poplar,  and  Shadwell ;  on  the  right, 
the  Mile  End  Road,  leading  to  Bow  and  Stratford ;  before  him. 
Ford,  Hackney,  Bethnal  Green.  Mile  upon  mile  of  streets  with 
houses — small,  mean,  and  monotonous  houses ;  the  people  living 
the  same  mean  and  monotonous  lives,  all  after  the  same  model. 
In  his  ignorance  he  pitied  and  despised  those  people,  not  know- 
ing how  rich  and  full  any  life  may  be  made,  whatever  the  sur- 
roundings, and  even  without  the  gracious  influences  of  art. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  pity  and  contempt,  when  he  returned 
in  the  evening  at  half-past  nine,  he  felt  himself  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  run  very  low  down  indeed. 

The  aspect  of  the  room  was  not  calculated  to  cheer  him  up. 
It  was  lit  with  a  mean  two-jet  gas-burner;  the  dingy  curtain 
wanted  looping  up ;  the  furniture  looked  more  common  and 
mean  than  usual.  Yet,  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  he  became 
conscious  of  a  change. 

The  boarders  were  all  sitting  there,  just  as  usual,  and  the 
supper-cloth  was  removed ;  Mr.  Maliphant  had  his  long  pipe 
fixed  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  but  he  held  it  there  with  an 
appearance  of  constraint,  and  he  had  let  it  go  out.  Mr.  Jose- 
phus  Coppin  sat  in  the  corner  in  which  he  always  put  himself, 
so  as  to  be  out  of  everybody's  way ;  also  with  a  pipe  in  his 
hand,  unlighted.  Daniel  Fagg  had  his  Hebrew  Bible  spread 
out  before  him,  and  his  dictionary,  and  his  copy  of  the  Author- 
ized Version — which  he  used,  as  he  would  carefully  explain,  not 
for  what  schoolboys  call  a  crib,  but  for  purpose  of  comparison. 
This  was  very  grand !  A  man  who  can  read  Hebrew  at  all  in- 
spires one  with  confidence ;  but  the  fact  is  the  more  important 
when  it  is  connected  with  a  discovery  ;  and  to  compare  versions 
— one's  own  with  the  collected  wisdom  of  a  royal  commission — 
is  a  very  grand  thing  indeed.  But  to-night  he  sat  with  his  head 
in  his  hands,  and  his  sandy  hair  pushed  back,  looking  straight 
before  him ;  and  Mrs.  Bormalack  was  graced  in  her  best  black 
silk  dress,  and  "  the  decanters  "  were  proudly  placed  upon  the 
table  with  rum,  gin,  and  brandy  in  them,  and  beside  them  stood 
the  tumblers,  hot  water,  cold  water,  lemons,  and  spoons,  in  the 
most  genteel  way.     The  representative  of  the  Upper  House, 


38  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

who  did  not  take  spirits-and-water,  sat  calmly  dignified  in  his 
arm-chair  by  the  fireplace,  and  in  front  of  him,  on  the  other 
side,  sat  his  wife,  with  black  thread  mittens  drawn  tightly  over 
her  little  hands  and  thin  arms,  bolt  upright  and  conscious  of  her 
rank.  All  appeared  to  be  silent,  but  that  was  their  custom — 
and  all,  which  was  not  their  custom,  wore  an  unaccustomed  air 
of  company  manners  which  was  very  beautiful  to  see. 

Harry,  looking  about  him,  perplexed  at  these  phenomena, 
presently  observed  that  the  eyes  of  all,  except  those  of  Daniel 
Fagg,  were  fixed  in  one  direction ;  and  that  the  reason  why  Mr. 
Maliphant  held  an  unlighted  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  Josephus 
one  in  his  hand,  and  that  Daniel  was  not  reading,  and  that  his 
lordship  looked  so  full  of  dignity,  and  that  ardent  spirits  were 
abroad,  was  nothing  less  than  the  presence  of  a  young  lady. 

In  such  a  house,  and,  in  fact,  all  round  Stepney  Green,  the 
word  "  lady  "  is  generally  used  in  a  broad  and  catholic  spirit ; 
but  in  this  case  Harry  unconsciously  used  it  in  the  narrow,  prej- 
udiced, one-sided  sense  peculiar  to  Western  longitudes.  And  it 
was  so  surprising  to  think  of  a  young  lady  in  connection  with 
Bormalack's  that  he  gasped  and  caught  his  breath.  And  then 
Mrs.  Bormalack  presented  him  to  the  new  arrival  in  her  best 
manner.  "  Our  youngest !"  she  said,  as  if  he  had  been  a  son  of 
the  house — "  our  youngest  and  last — the  sprightly  Mr.  Goslett. 
This  is  Miss  Kennedy,  and  I  hope — I'm  sure — that  you  two  will 
get  to  be  friendly  with  one  another,  not  to  speak  of  keeping 
company,  which  is  early  days  yet  for  prophecies." 

Harry  bowed  in  his  most  superior  style.  What  on  earth,  he 
thought  again,  did  a  young  lady  want  at  Stepney  Green  ? 

She  had  the  carriage  and  the  manner  of  a  lady  ;  she  was  quite 
simply  dressed  in  a  black  cashmere ;  she  wore  a  red  ribbon 
round  her  white  throat,  and  had  white  cuffs.  A  lady — unmis- 
takably a  lady  ;  also  young  and  beautiful,  with  great  brown  eyes, 
which  met  his  own  frankly,  and  with  a  certain  look  of  surprise 
which  seemed  an  answer  to  his  own. 

"  Our  handsome  young  cabinet-maker,  Miss  Kennedy,"  went 
on  the  landlady — Harry  wondered  whether  it  was  worse  to  be 
described  as  sprightly  than  as  handsome,  and  which  adjective 
was  likely  to  produce  the  more  unfavorable  impression  on  a 
young  lady — "  is  wishful  to  establish  himself  in  a  genteel  way 
of  business,  like  yourself." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  39 

' '  When  I  was  in  the  dressmaking  line,"  observed  her  lady- 
ship, "  I  stayed  at  home  with  mother  and  Aunt  Keziah.  It 
was  not  thought  right  in  Canaan  City  for  young  women  to  go 
about  setting  up  shops  by  themselves.  Not  that  I  say  you 
are  wrong,  Miss  Kennedy,  but  London  ways  are  not  New  Hamp- 
shire ways." 

Miss  Kennedy  murmured  something  softly,  and  looked  again 
at  the  handsome  cabinet-maker,  who  was  still  blushing  with  in- 
dignation and  shame  at  Mrs.  Bormalack's  adjectives,  and  ready 
to  blush  again  on  recovery  to  think  that  he  was  so  absurd  as  to 
feel  any  shame  about  so  trifling  a  matter.  Still,  every  young 
man  likes  to  appear  in  a  good  light  in  the  presence  of  beauty. 

The  young  lady,  then,  was  only  a  dressmaker.  For  the  mo- 
ment she  dropped  a  little  in  his  esteem,  which  comes  of  our  ar- 
tificial and  conventional  education ;  because — why  not  a  dress- 
maker ?  Then  she  rose  again,  because — what  a  dressmaker ! 
Could  there  be  many  such  in  Stepney  ?  If  so,  how  was  it  that 
poets,  novelists,  painters,  and  idle  young  men  did  not  flock  to 
so  richly  endowed  a  district  ?  In  this  unexpected  manner  does 
nature  offer  compensations.  Harry  also  observed  with  satisfac- 
tion the  novel  presence  of  a  newly  arrived  piano,  which  could 
belong  to  no  other  than  the  new-comer ;  and,  finding  that  the 
conversation  showed  no  signs  of  brightening,  he  ventured  to  ask 
Miss  Kennedy  if  she  would  play  to  them. 

Now,  when  she  began  to  play,  a  certain  magic  of  the  music 
fell  upon  them  all,  affecting  every  one  differently.  Such  is  the 
power  of  music,  and  thus  diverse  is  it  in  its  operation.  As  for 
his  lordship,  he  sat  nodding  his  head  and  twinkling  his  eyes  and 
smiling  sweetly,  because  he  was  in  imagination  sitting  among 
his  peers  in  the  Upper  House  with  a  crown  of  gold  and  a  robe 
of  fur,  and  all  his  friends  of  Canaan  City,  brought  across  the 
Atlantic  at  his  own  expense  for  this  very  purpose,  were  watch- 
ing him  with  envy  and  admiration  from  the  gallery.  Among 
them  was  Aurelia  Tucker,  the  scoffer  and  thrower  of  cold  water. 
And  her  ladyship  sat  beating  time  with  head  and  hand,  think- 
ing how  the  family  estates  would  probably  be  restored,  with  the 
title,  by  the  queen.  She  had  great  ideas  on  the  Royal  Preroga- 
tive, and  had,  indeed,  been  accustomed  to  think  in  the  old  days 
that  Englishmen  go  about  in  continual  terror  lest  her  majesty, 
in  the  exercise  of  this  prerogative,  should  order  their  heads  to 
I) 


40  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

be  removed.  This  gracious  vision,  due  entirely  to  the  music, 
showed  her  in  a  stately  garden  entertaining  Aurelia  Tucker  and 
other  friends  whom  she,  like  her  husband,  had  imported  from 
Canaan  City  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  the  new  greatness. 
And  Aurolia  was  green  with  envy,  though  she  wore  her  best 
black  silk  dress. 

The  other  boarders  were  differently  affected.  The  melan- 
choly Josephus  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  saw  himself 
in  imagination  the  head  brewer,  as  he  might  have  been,  but  for 
the  misfortune  of  his  early  youth.  Head  brewer  to  the  firm  of 
Messenger,  Marsden,  &  Company  !     What  a  position  ! 

Daniel  Fagg,  for  his  part,  was  dreaming  of  the  day  when  his 
discovery  was  to  be  received  by  all  and  adequately  rewarded. 
He  anticipated  the  congratulations  of  his  friends  in  Australia, 
and  stood  on  deck  in  port  surrounded  by  the  crowd,  who  shook 
his  hand  and  cheered  him,  in  good  Australian  fashion,  as  Daniel 
the  Great,  Daniel  the  Scourge  of  Scholars,  Daniel  the  Prophet — 
a  second  Daniel.  The  professor  took  advantage  of  this  general 
rapture  or  abstraction  from  earthly  things  to  lay  the  plans  for  a 
grand  coup  in  legerdemain,  a  new  experiment,  which  should 
astonish  everybody.  This  he  afterwards  carried  through  with 
success. 

Mrs.  Bormalack,  for  her  part,  filled  and  slowly  drank  a  large 
tumbler  of  hot  brandy-and-water.  When  she  had  finished  it  she 
wiped  away  a  tear.  Probably,  stimulated  by  the  brandy,  which 
is  a  sentimental  spirit,  she  was  thinking  of  her  late  husband, 
collector  for  the  brewery,  who  was  himself  romantically  fond  of 
brandy-and-water,  and  came  to  an  early  end  in  consequence  of 
overrating  his  powers  of  consumption. 

Mr.  Maliphant  winked  his  eyes,  rolled  his  head,  rubbed  his 
hands,  and  laughed  joyously,  but  in  silence.  Why,  one  knows 
not.  When  the  music  finished,  he  whispered  to  Daniel  Fagg. 
"  No,"  he  said, "  this  is  the  third  time  in  the  year  that  you  have 
asked  leave  to  bury  your  mother.  Make  it  your  grandmother, 
young  man."  Then  he  laughed  again,  and  said  that  he  had  been 
with  Walker  in  Nicaragua.  Harry  heard  this  communication, 
and  the  attempt  to  fill  up  the  story  from  these  two  fragments 
afterwards  gave  him  nightmare. 

Miss  Kennedy  played  a  gavotte,  and  then  another,  and  then 
a  sonata.     Perhaps  it  is  the  character  of  this  kind  of  music  to 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  41 

call  up  pleasant  and  joyous  tliouglits ;  certainly  there  is  much 
music,  loved  greatly  by  some  people,  which  makes  us  sad — nota- 
bly the  strains  sung  at  places  of  popular  resort.  They  probably 
become  favorites  because  they  sadden  so  much.  Who  would 
not  shed  tears  on  hearing  "  Tommy  Dodd  "  ? 

She  played  without  music,  gracefully,  easily,  and  with  expres- 
sion. AVhile  she  played  Harry  sat  beside  the  piano,  still  won- 
dering on  the  same  theme.  She,  a  Stepney  dressmaker !  Who, 
in  this  region,  could  have  taught  her  that  touch  ?  She  "  wish- 
ful to  establish  herself  in  a  genteel  way  of  business "  ?  Was 
art,  then,  permeating  downwards  so  rapidly  ?  Were  the  people, 
just  above  the  masses,  the  second  or  thix*d  stratum  of  the  social 
pyramid,  taught  music,  and  in  such  a  style  ?  Then  he  left  off 
wondering,  and  fell  to  the  blissful  contemplation  of  a  beautiful 
woman  playing  beautiful  music.  This  is  an  occupation  always 
delightful  to  young  Englishmen,  and  it  does  equal  credit  to  their 
heads  and  to  their  hearts  that  they  never  tire  of  so  harmless  an 
amusement.  When  she  finished  playing,  everybody  descended 
to  earth,  so  to  speak. 

The  noble  pair  remembered  that  their  work  was  still  before 
them — all  to  do :  one  of  them  thought,  with  a  pang,  about  the 
drawing  of  the  case,  and  wished  he  had  not  gone  to  sleep  in 
the  morning. 

The  clerk  in  the  brewery  awoke  to  the  recollection  of  his 
thirty  shillings  a  week,  and  reflected  that  the  weather  was  such 
as  to  necessitate  a  pair  of  boots  which  had  soles. 

The  learned  Daniel  Fagg  bethought  him  once  more  of  his 
poverty  and  the  increasing  difficulty  of  getting  subscribers,  and 
the  undisguised  contempt  with  which  the  head  of  the  Egyptian 
department  had  that  morning  received  him. 

Mr.  Maliphant  left  off  laughing,  and  shook  his  puckered  old 
face  with  a  little  astonishment  that  he  had  been  so  moved. 

Said  the  professor,  breaking  the  silence  : 

"I  like  the  music  to  go  on,  so  long  as  no  patter  is  wanted. 
They  listen  to  music  if  it's  lively,  and  it  prevents  'em  from  look- 
ing round  and  getting  suspicious.  You  haven't  got  an  egg  upon 
you,  Mrs.  Bormalack,  have  you  ?  Dear  me,  one  in  your  lap  ! 
Actually  in  a  lady's  lap  1  A  common  egg,  one  of  our  '  selected,' 
at  tenpence  the  dozen.  Ah  !  In  your  lap,  too  !  How  very  in- 
judicious !     You  might  have  dropped  it,  and  broken  it.     Per- 


42  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

haps,  miss,  you  wouldn't  mind  obliging  once  more  with  *  Tom- 
my, make  room  for  your  uncle '  or  '  Over  the  garden  wall,'  if 
you  please." 

Miss  Kennedy  did  not  know  either  of  these  airs,  but  she 
laughed  and  said  she  would  play  something  lively,  while  the 
professor  went  on  with  his  .trick.  First,  he  drew  all  eyes  to 
meet  his  own  like  a  fascinating  constrictor,  and  then  he  began 
to  "  palm  "  the  egg  in  the  most  surprising  manner.  After  many 
adventures  it  was  ultimately  found  in  Daniel  Fagg's  coat-pocket. 
Tiien  the  professor  smiled,  bowed,  and  spread  out  his  hands  as 
if  to  show  the  purity  and  honesty  of  his  conjuring. 

"  You  play  very  well,"  said  Harry,  to  Miss  Kennedy,  when 
the  conjuring  was  over  and  the  professor  had  returned  to  his 
chair  and  his  nightly  occupation  with  a  pencil,  a  piece  of  paper, 
and  a  book. 

"  Can  you  play  ?" 

"  I  fiddle  a  little.  If  you  will  allow  me,  we  will  try  some 
evening  a  duet  together." 

"  I  did  not  know — "  she  began,  but  checked  herself.  "  I  did 
not  expect  to  find  a  violinist  here." 

"  A  good  many  people  of  my  class  play,"  said  Harry,  men- 
daciously, because  the  English  workman  is  the  least  musical  of 
men. 

"  Few  of  mine,"  she  returned,  rising,  and  closing  the  piano, 
"have  the  chance  of  learning.     But  I  have  had  opportunities." 

She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  remarked  that  it  was  nearly  ten 
o'clock,  and  that  she  was  going  to  bed. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  Mr.  Bunker  about  what  you  want,  Miss 
Kennedy,"  said  the  landlady.  "  He  will  be  here  to-morrow 
morning  about  ten  on  his  rounds." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Bunker  ?"  asked  Angela. 

They  all  seemed  surprised.  Had  she  never,  in  whatever  part 
of  the  world  she  had  lived,  heard  of  Mr.  Bunker — Bunker  the 
Great  ? 

"  He  used  to  be  a  sort  of  a  factotum  to  old  Mr.  Messenger, 
said  Mrs.  Bormalack.  "  His  death  was  a  sad  blow  to  Mr.  Bun- 
ker. He's  a  general  agent  by  trade,  and  he  deals  in  coal,  and 
he's  a  house-^gent,  and  he  knows  everybody  round  Stepney  and 
up  the  Mile  End  Road  as  far  as  Bow;  He's  saved  money,  too, 
Miss  Kennedy,  and  is  greatly  respected." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  '43 

"  He  ought  to  be,"  said  Harry  ;  "  not  only  because  be  was  so 
mucb  with  Mr.  Messenger,  whose  name  is  revered  for  the  kin- 
dred associations  of  beer  and  property,  but  also  because  he  is 
my  uncle — he  ought  to  be  respected." 

"  Your  uncle  ?" 

"  My  own — so  near,  and  yet  so  dear — my  uncle  Bunker,  To  be 
connected  with  Messenger,  Marsden,  &  Company,  even  indirectly, 
through  such  an  uncle,  is  in  itself  a  distinction.  You  will  learn 
to  know  him,  and  you  will  learn  to  esteem  him.  Miss  Kennedy. 
You  will  esteem  him  all  the  more  if  you  are  interested  in  beer." 

Miss  Kennedy  blushed. 

"  Bunker  is  great  in  the  Company.  I  believe  he  used  to  con- 
sider himself  a  kind  of  partner  while  the  old  man  lived.  He 
knows  all  about  the  big  brewery.  As  for  that,  everybody  does 
round  Stepney  Green." 

"  The  Company,"  said  Josephus,  gloomily,  "  is  nothing  but  a 
chit  of  a  girl."  He  sighed,  thinking  how  much  went  to  her,  and 
how  little  came  to  himself. 

"  We  are  steeped  in  beer,"  Harry  went  on.  "  Our  conversa- 
tion turns  forever  on  beer ;  we  live  for  beer ;  the  houses  round 
us  are  filled  with  the  Company's  servants  ;  we  live  by  beer.  For 
example,  Mrs.  Bormalack's  late  husband — " 

"  He  was  a  collector  for  the  Company,"  said  the  landlady,  with 
natural  pride. 

"  You  see.  Miss  Kennedy,  what  a  responsible  and  exalted  po- 
sition was  held  by  Mr.  Bormalack,"  (The  widow  thought  that 
sometimes  it  was  hard  to  know  whether  this  sprightly  young 
man  was  laughing  at  people  or  not,  but  it  certainly  was  a  very 
high  position,  and  most  respectable.)  "  He  went  round  the 
houses,"  Harry  went  on.  "  Houses,  here,  mean  public-houses  : 
the  Company  owns  half  the  public-houses  in  the  East  End.  Then 
here  is  my  cousin,  the  genial  Josephus,  Hold  up  your  head, 
Josephus.     He  for  his  part,  is  a  clerk  in  the  house." 

Josephus  groaned.     "  A  junior  clerk,"  he  murmured. 

"The  professor  is  not  allowed  in  the  brewery.  He  might 
conjure  among  the  vats,  and  vats  have  never  been  able  to  take 
a  practical  joke ;  but  he  amuses  the  brewery  people.  As  for 
Mr.  Maliphant,  he  carves  figure-heads  for  the  ships  which  carry 
away  the  brewery  beer;  and  perhaps  when  the  brewery  wants 
cabinets  made  they  will  come  to  me." 


44  .        ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  It  is  the  biggest  brewery  in  all  England,"  said  the  landlady. 
"  I  can  never  remember — because  my  memory  is  like  a  sieve — 
how  much  beer  they  brew  every  year ;  but  somebody  once  made 
a  calculation  about  it,  compared  with  Niagara  Falls,  which  even 
Mr.  Bunker  said  was  surprising." 

"  Think,  Miss  Kennedy,"  said  Harry,  "  of  an  entire  Niagara 
of  Messenger's  Entire." 

"  But  how  can  this  Mr.  Bunker  be  of  use  to  me  ?"  asked  the 
young  lady. 

"Why,"  said  Mrs.  Bormalack,  "there  is  not  a  shop,  nor  a 
street,  nor  any  kind  of  place  within  miles  Mr.  Bunker  doesn't 
know — who  they  are  that  live  there,  how  they  make  their  living, 
what  the  rent  is,  and  everything.  That's  what  made  him  so 
useful  to  old  Mr.  Messenger." 

Miss  Kennedy,  for  some  reason,  changed  color.  Then  she 
said  that  she  thought  she  would  like  to  see  Mr.  Bunker. 

When  she  was  gone  Harry  sat  down  beside  his  lordship  and 
proceeded  to  smoke  tobacco  in  silence,  refusing  the  proffered 
decanters. 

Said  the  professor,  softly : 

"She'd  be  a  fortune — a  gem  of  the  first  water — upon  the 
boards.  As  pianoforte-player  between  the  feats  of  magic,  mar- 
vel, and  mystery,  or  a  medium  under  the  magnetic  influence 
of  the  operator,  or  a  clairvoyante,  or  a  thought-reader — or — " 
Here  he  relapsed  into  silence  with  a  sigh. 

"  She  looks  intelligent,"  said  Daniel  Fagg.  "  When  she  hears 
about  my  discovery  she  will — "  Here  he  caught  the  eye  of 
Harry  Goslett,  who  was  shaking  a  finger  of  warning,  which  he 
rightly  interpreted  to  mean  that  dressmakers  must  not  be  asked 
to  subscribe  to  learned  works.     This  abashed  him. 

"  Considered  as  a  figure-head,"  began  Mr.  Maliphant,  "  I  re- 
member— " 

"  As  a  dressmaker,  now — "  interrupted  Harry.  "  Do  Stepney 
dressmakers  often  play  the  piano  like — well,  like  Miss  Kennedy  ? 
Do  they  wear  gold  watches  ?  Do  they  talk  and  move  and  act 
so  much  like  real  ladies  that  no  one  could  tell  the  difference  ? 
Answer  me  that,  Mrs.  Bormalack." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Goslett,  all  I  can  say  is,  that  she  seems  a  very 
proper  young  lady  to  have  in  the  house." 

"  Proper,  ma'am  ?     If  you  were  to  search  the  whole  of  Step- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  45 

ney,  I  don't  believe  you  could  find  sucli  another.     What  does 
your  ladyship  say  ?" 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Goslett,  that  in  Canaan  City  the  ladies  who  are 
dressmakers  set  the  fashions  to  the  ladies  who  are  not :  I  was 
myself  a  dressmaker.  And  Aurelia  Tucker,  though  she  turns 
up  her  nose  at  our  elevation,  is,  I  must  say,  a  lady  who  would 
do  credit  to  any  circle — even  yours,  Mrs.  Bormalack.  And  such 
remarks  about  real  ladies  and  dressmakers  I  do  not  understand, 
and  I  expected  better  manners,  I  must  say.  Look  at  his  lord- 
ship's manners,  Mr.  Goslett — and  his  father  Avas  a  carpenter,  like 
you." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

UNCLE     BUNKER. 


»  My  uncle !" 

It  was  the  sprightly  young  cabinet-maker  who  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  grasped  the  hand  of  the  new-comer  with  an  effusion 
not  returned. 

"  Allow  me.  Miss  Kennedy,  to  present  to  you  my  uncle,  my 
uncle  Bunker,  whose  praise  you  heard  us  sing  with  one  consent 
last  night.  We  did,  indeed,  revered  one  !  Whatever  you  want 
bought.  Miss  Kennedy,  from  a  piano  to  a  learned  pig,  this  is 
the  man  who  will  do  it  for  you.  A  percentage  on  the  cost,  with 
a  trifling  charge  for  time,  is  all  he  seeks  in  return.  He  is 
generally  known  as  the  Benevolent  Bunker ;  he  is  everybody's 
friend ;  especially  he  is  beloved  by  persons  behindhand  with 
their  rents,  he  is — " 

Here  Mr.  Bunker  drew  out  his  watch,  and  observed  with 
severity  that  his  time  was  valuable,  and  that  he  came  about 
business. 

Angela  observed  that  the  sallies  of  his  nephew  were  received 
with  disfavor. 

"  Can  we  not,"  pursued  Harry,  regardless  of  the  cloud  upon 
his  uncle's  brow — "  can  we  not  escape  from  affairs  of  urgency 
for  one  moment  ?  Show  us  your  lighter  side,  my  uncle.  Let 
Miss  Kennedy  admire  the  gifts  and  graces  which  you  hide,  as 
well  as  the  sterner  qualities  which  you  exhibit." 

"  Business,  young  lady,"  the  agent  repeated,  with  a  snort  and 


46  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

a  scowl.  He  took  off  his  hat  and  rubbed  his  bald  head  with  a 
silk  pocket-handkerchief  until  it  shone  like  polished  marble.  He 
was  short  in  stature  and  of  round  figure.  His  face  was  red  and 
puffy  as  if  he  were  fond  of  hot  brandy-and-water,  and  he  panted, 
being  a  little  short  of  breath.  His  eyes  were  small  and  close 
together,  which  gave  him  a  cunning  look  ;  his  whiskers  were 
large  and  gray ;  his  lips  were  thick  and  firm,  and  his  upper  lip 
was  long ;  his  nose  was  broad,  but  not  humorous  ;  his  head  was 
set  on  firmly,  and  he  had  a  square  chin.  Evidently  he  was  a 
man  of  determination,  and  he  was  probably  determined  to  look 
after  his  own  interests  first. 

"  I  want,"  said  Angela,  "  to  establish  myself  in  this  neighbor- 
hood as  a  dressmaker." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Bunker.     "  That's  practical.     It  is  my  ' 
business  to  do  with  practical  people,  not  sniggerers  and  idle 
gigglers."     He  looked  at  his  nephew. 

"  I  shall  want  a  convenient  house,  and  a  staff  of  workwomen, 
and — and  some  one  acquainted  with  business  details  and  man- 
agement." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Bunker.  "  A  forewoman  you  will  want, 
of  course." 

"  Then,  as  I  do  not  ask  you  to  give  me  your  advice  for  noth- 
ing, how  are  you  generally  paid  for  such  services  ?" 

"  I  charge,"  he  said,  "  as  arranged  for  beforehand.  Time  for 
talking,  arranging,  and  house -hunting,  half  a  crown  an  hour. 
That  won't  break  you.  And  you  won't  talk  too  much,  knowing 
you  have  to  pay  for  it.  Percentage  on  the  rent,  ten  per  cent, 
for  the  first  year,  nothing  afterwards ;  if  you  want  furniture,  I 
will  furnish  your  house  from  top  to  bottom  on  the  same  terms, 
and  find  you  work-girls  at  five  shillings  a  head." 

"  Yes,"  said  Angela.  "  I  suppose  I  must  engage  a  staff.  And 
I  suppose — "  here  she  looked  at  Harry,  as  if  for  advice.  "  I 
suppose  that  you  are  the  best  person  to  go  to  for  assistance." 

"  There  is  no  one  else,"  said  Mr.  Bunker.  "  That  is  why  my 
terms  are  so  low." 

His  nephew  whistled,  softly. 

Mr.  Bunker,  after  an  angry  growl  at  people  who  keep  their 
hands  in  their  pockets,  proceeded  to  develop  his  views.  Miss 
Kennedy  listened  languidly,  appearing  to  care  very  little  about 
details,  and  agreeing  to  most  expensive  things  in  a  perfectly 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  47 

reckless  manner.  She  was  afraid,  for  her  part,  that  her  own  ig- 
norance would  be  exposed  if  she  talked.  The  agent,  however, 
quickly  perceived  how  ignorant  she  was,  from  this  very  silence, 
and  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  so  promising  a  subject.  She 
could  not  possibly  have  much  money — who  ever  heard  of  a 
Stepney  dressmaker  with  any? — and  she  evidently  had  no  ex- 
perience. He  would  get  as  much  of  the  money  as  he  could,  and 
she  would  be  the  gainer  in  experience !  A  most  equitable  ar- 
rangement, he  thought,  being  one  of  those — too  few,  alas  ! — who 
keep  before  their  eyes  a  lofty  ideal,  and  love  to  act  up  to  it. 

When  he  had  quite  finished,  and  fairly  embarked  his  victim 
on  a  vast  ocean  of  expenditure,  comparatively,  and  with  refer- 
ence to  Stepney  and  Mile  End  customs,  he  put  up  his  pocket- 
book  and  remarked,  with  a  smile,  that  he  should  want  refer- 
ences of  respectability. 

"  That's  usual,"  he  said ;  "  I  could  not  work  without." 

Anfrela  chanored  color.  To  be  asked  for  references  was  awk- 
ward. 

"  You  can  refer  to  me,  my  uncle,"  said  Harry. 

Mr.  Bunker  took  no  notice  of  this  proposition. 

"  You  see,  miss,"  he  said,  "  we  don't  know  you,  nor  where  you 
come  from,  nor  what  money  you've  got,  nor  how  you  got  it.  No 
doubt  it  is  all  right,  and  I'm  sure  you  look  honest.  Perhaps 
you've  got  nothing  to  hide,  and  very  likely  there's  good  reasons 
for  wanting  to  settle  here. 

"  My  grandfather  was  a  Whitechapel  man  by  birth,"  she  re- 
plied. "  He  left  me  some  money.  If  you  must  have  refer- 
ences, of  course  I  could  refer  you  to  the  lawyers  who  managed 
my  little  affairs.  But  I  would  rather,  to  save  trouble,  pay  for 
everything  on  the  spot,  and  the  rent  in  advance." 

Mr.  Bunker  consented  to  waive  his  objection  on  payment  of 
a  sum  of  ten  pounds  down,  it  being  understood  and  concluded 
that  everything  bought  should  be  paid  for  on  the  spot,  and  a 
year's  rent,  when  the  house  was  fixed  upon,  paid  in  advance ;  in 
consideration  for  which  he  said  the  young  lady  might,  in  sub- 
sequent transactions  with  strangers,  refer  to  himself,  a  privilege 
which  was  nothing  less  than  the  certain  passport  to  fortune. 

"As  for  me,"  he  added,  "my  motto  is,  'Think  first  of  your 
client.'  Don't  spare  yourself  for  him ;  toil  for  him,  think  for 
him,  rise    up   early   and   lie   down  late  for  him,  and  you  reap 


48  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

your  reward  from  grateful  hearts.  Lord !  the  fortunes  I  have 
made !" 

"  Virtuous  uncle  Bunker !"  cried  Harry,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  Noble,  indeed !" 

The  good  man  for  the  moment  forgot  the  existence  of  his 
frivolous  nephew,  who  had  retired  up  the  stage,  so  to  speak. 
He  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  say  something  in  anger,  but  re- 
frained, and  snorted. 

"  Now  that  we  have  settled  that  matter,  Mr.  Bunker,"  the  girl 
said,  without  noticing  the  interruption, "  let  us  talk  about  other 
matters." 

"  Are  they  business  matters  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  still — " 

*'  Time  is  money  ;  an  hour  is  half  a  crown."  He  drew  out 
his  watch,  and  made  a  note  of  the  time  in  his  pocket-book.  "A 
quarter  to  eleven,  miss.  If  I  didn't  charge  for  time,  what  would 
become  of  my  clients  ?  Neglected ;  their  interests  ruined  ;  the 
favorable  moment  gone.  If  I  could  tell  you  of  a  lady  I  estab- 
lished two  years  ago  in  one  of  the  brewery  houses,  and  what 
she's  made  of  it,  and  what  she  says  of  me,  you  would  be  aston- 
ished. A  grateful  heart,  and  no  better  brandy-and-water,  hot, 
with  a  slice  of  lemon,  in  the  Whitechapel  Road.  But  you  were 
about  to  say,  miss — " 

"  She  was  going  to  begin  with  a  hymn  of  praise,  uncle  Bunker ; 
paid  in  advance,  like  the  rest.  Gratitude  for  favors  to  come. 
But  if  you  like  to  tell  about  the  lady,  do.  Miss  Kennedy  will 
only  charge  you  half  a  crown  an  hour.     I'll  piark  time." 

"  I  think,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  "  that  it  is  time  you 
should  go  to  your  work.  Stepney  is  not  the  place  for  sniggerin' 
peacocks ;  they'd  better  have  stayed  in  the  United  States." 

"  I  am  waiting  till  you  have  found  me  a  place,  too,"  the  young 
man  replied.  "  I,  too,  would  wish  to  experience  the  grateful 
heart.     It  is  peculiar  to  Whitechapel." 

"  I  was  going  to  say,"  Angela  went  on,  "  that  I  hear  you  were 
connected  with  old  Mr.  Messenger  for  many  years." 

"  I  was,"  Mr.  Bunker  replied,  and  straightened  his  back  with 
pride.  "  I  was — everybody  knows  that  I  was  his  confidential 
factotum  and  his  familiar  friend,  as  David  was  unto  Jonathan." 

*'  Indeed  !  I  used  to — to — hear  about  him,  formerly,  a  great 
deal." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  49 

"  Which  made  his  final  behavior  tlie  more  revolting,"  Mr. 
Bunker  continued,  completing  his  sentence. 

"  Really  !     How  did  he  finally  behave  ?" 

"  It  was  always — all !  for  twenty  years,  between  us,  'Bunker, 
my  friend,'  or  *  Bunker,  my  trusted  friend,'  tell  me  this,  go. there, 
find  out  that.  I  bought  liis  houses;  I  let  his  houses;  I  told 
him  who  were  responsible  tenants ;  I  warned  him  when  shoot- 
ing of  moons  seemed  likely ;  I  found  out  their  antecedents  and 
told  him  their  stories.  He  had  hundreds  of  houses,  and  he  knew 
everybody  that  lived  in  them,  and  what  their  fathers  were  and 
their  mothers  were,  and  even  their  grandmothers.  For  he  was 
a  Whitechapel  man  by  birth,  and  was  proud  of  it." 

"  But — the  shameful  behavior  ?" 

"  All  the  time  " — he  shook  his  head  and  looked  positively 
terrible  in  his  wrath — "  all  the  time  I  was  piling  up  his  property 
for  him,  houses  here,  streets  there,  he  would  encourage  me  in 
this  way.  '  Go  on.  Bunker,'  he  would  say, '  go  on.  A  man  who 
works  for  duty,  like  yourself,  and  to  please  his  employers,  and 
not  out  of  consideration  for  the  pay,  is  one  of  a  million ;'  as  I 
certainly  was.  Miss  Kennedy.  '  One  of  a  million,'  he  said ;  '  and 
you  will  have  your  reward  after  I  am  gone.'  Over  and  over 
again  he  said  this,  and  of  course  I  reckoned  on  it,  and  only  won- 
dered how  much  it  would  tot  up  to.  Something,  I  thought,  in 
four  figures ;  it  couldn't  be  less  than  four  figures."  Here  he 
stopped  and  rubbed  his  bald  head  again. 

Angela  caught  the  eyes  of  his  nephew,  who  in  his  seat  behind 
was  silently  laughing.  He  had  caught  the  situation  which  she 
herself  now  readily  comprehended.  She  pictured  to  herself  this 
blatant  professor  of  disinterestedness  and  zeal  buzzing  and  flut- 
tering about  her  grandfather,  and  the  quiet  old  man  egging  him 
on  to  more  protestations. 

"  Four  figures,  for  certain,  it  would  be.  Once  I  asked  his  ad- 
vice as  to  how  I  should  invest  that  reward  when  it  did  come. 
He  laughed,  miss.  Yes,  for  once  he  laughed,  which  I  never  saw 
him  do  before  or  after.  I  often  think  he  must  be  sorry  now  to 
think  of  that  time  he  laughed.     Yah  !  I'm  glad  of  it." 

So  far  as  Angela  could  make  it,  his  joy  grew  out  of  a  persua- 
sion that  this  particular  fit  of  laughter  was  somehow  interfering 
with  her  grandfather's  present  comforts,  but  perhaps  she  was 
wrong. 
3 


50  ALL    SORTS   AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

"  He  laughed,"  continued  Mr.  Bunker,  "  and  he  said  that  house 
property,  in  a  rising  neighborhood,  and  if  it  could  be  properly 
looked  after,  was  the  best  investment  for  money.  House  prop- 
erty, he  said,  as  far  as  the  money  would  go." 

"  Apd  when  he  died  ?"  asked  the  listener,  with  another  glance 
at  Harry,  the  unsympathetic,  whose  face  expressed  the  keenest 
enjoyment. 

"  Nothing,  if  you  please ;  not  one  brass  farthing.  Hunks ! 
Hunks !"  He  grew  perfectly  purple,  and  clinched  his  fist  as  if 
he  would  fain  be  punching  of  heads.  "  Not  one  word  of  me  in 
his  will.  All  for  the  girl :  millions — millions  for  her ;  and  for 
me  who  done  his  work — nothing." 

"  You  have  the  glow  of  virtue,"  said  his  nephew. 

"  It  seems  hard,"  said  Angela,  quickly,  for  the  man  looked 
dangerous,  and  seemed  capable  of  transferring  his  wrath  to  his 
nephew — "  it  seems  hard  to  get  nothing  if  anything  was  prom- 
ised." 

"  It  seems  a  pity,"  Harry  chimed  in,  "  that  so  much  protest- 
ing was  in  vain.  Perhaps  Mr.  Messenger  took  him  at  his  word. 
What  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  believed." 

"  A  hunks,"  replied  Mr.  Bunker,  "  a  miserly  hunks." 

"  Let  me  write  a  letter  for  you,"  said  Harry,  "  to  the  heiress ; 
we  might  forward  it  with  a  deputation  of  grateful  hearts  from 
Stepney." 

"  Mind  your  own  business,"  growled  his  uncle.  **  Well,  miss, 
you  wanted  to  hear  about  Mr.  Messenger,  and  you  have  heard. 
What  next?" 

"  I  should  very  much  like,  if  it  were  possible,"  Angela  replied, 
"  to  see  this  great  brewery,  of  which  one  hears  so  much.  Could 
you,  for  instance,  take  me  over,  Mr.  Bunker  ?" 

"At  a  percentage,"  whispered  his  nephew,  loud  enough  for 
both  to  hear. 

"  Messenger's  brewery,"  he  replied,  "  is  as  familiar  to  me  as 
my  own  fireside.  I've  grown  up  beside  it.  I  know  all  the  peo- 
ple in  it.  They  all  know  me.  Perhaps  they  respect  me.  For 
it  was  well  known  that  a  handsome  legacy  was  promised,  and 
expected.  And  nothing  after  all.  As  for  taking  you  over,  of 
course  I  can.  We  will  go  at  once.  It  will  take  time :  and  time 
is  money." 

"  May  I  go,  too  ?"  asked  Harry. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  61 

"  No,  sir ;  you  may  not.  It  sliall  not  be  said  in  tlie  Mile  End 
Road  that  an  industrious  man  like  myself,  a  worker  for  clients, 
was  seen  in  working-tftne  with  an  idler." 

The  walk  from  Stepney  Green  to  Messenger  &  Marsden's 
Brewery  is  not  far.  You  turn  to  the  left  if  your  house  is  on  one 
side,  and  to  the  right  if  it  is  on  the  other ;  then  you  pass  a  lit- 
tle way  down  one  street,  and  a  little  way,  turning  again  to  the 
left,  up  another — a  direction  which  will  guide  you  quite  clearly. 
You  then  find  yourself  before  a  great  gateway,  the  portals  of 
which  are  closed ;  beside  it  is  a  smaller  door,  at  which,  in  a  lit- 
tle lodge,  sits  one  who  guards  the  entrance. 

Mr.  Bunker  nodded  to  the  porter,  and  entered  unchallenged. 
He  led  the  way  across  a  court  to  a  sort  of  outer  office. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  is  the  book  for  the  visitors'  names.  We 
have  them  from  all  countries :  great  lords  and  ladies ;  foreign 
princes ;  and  all  the  brewers  from  Germany  and  America,  who 
come  to  get  a  wrinkle.  Write  your  own  name  in  it,  too.  Some- 
thing, let  me  tell  you,  to  have  your  name  in  such  noble  com- 
pany." 

She  took  a  pen  and  wrote  hurriedly. 

Mr.  Bunker  looked  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !"  he  said,  "  that  is  a  good  one  !  See  what  you've 
written." 

In  fact,  she  had  written  her  own  name — Angela  Marsden 
Messenger. 

She  blushed  violently. 

"  How  stupid  of  me !  I  was  thinking  of  the  heiress — they 
said  it  was  her  name." 

She  carefully  effaced  the  name,  and  wrote  under  it,  "  A.  M. 
Kennedy." 

"  That's  better.  And  now  come  along.  A  good  joke,  too ! 
Fancy  their  astonishment  if  they  had  come  to  read  it." 

"  Docs  she  often  come — the  heiress  ?" 

"  Never  once  been  anigh  the  place  ;  never  seen  it ;  never  asks 
after  it ;  never  makes  an  inquiry  about  it.  Draws  the  money 
and  despises  it." 

"  I  wonder  she  has  not  got  more  curiosity." 

"  Ah !  It's  a  shame  for  such  a  property  to  come  to  a  girl — a 
girl  of  twenty-one.  Thirteen  acres  it  covers — think  of  that ! 
Seven  hundred  people  it  employs,  most  of  them  married,    Why, 


62  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

if  it  ■was  only  to  see  lier  own  vats,  you'd  think  she'd  get  off  of 
her  luxurious  pillows  for  once,  and  come  here." 

They  entered  a  great  hall,  remarkable,  at  first,  for  a  curious 
smell,  not  offensive,  but  strong,  and  rather  pungent.  In  it  stood 
half  a  dozen  enormous  vats,  closed  by  wooden  slides,  like  shut- 
ters, fitting  tightly.  A  man  standing  by  opened  one  of  these, 
and  presently  Angela  Avas  able  to  make  out,  through  the  volumes 
of  steam,  something  bright  going  round,  and  a  brown  mess  go- 
ing with  it. 

"  That  is  hops.  Hops  for  the  biggest  brewery,  the  richest,  in 
all  England.  And  all  belonging  to  a  girl  who,  likely  enough, 
doesn't  drink  more  than  a  pint  and  a  half  a  day." 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Angela ;  "  it  must  be  a  dreadful  thing 
indeed  to  have  so  much  beer,  and  to  be  able  to  drink  so  little." 

He  led  the  way  up-stairs  into  another  great  hall,  where  there 
was  the  grinding  of  machinery,  and  another  smell,  sweet  and 
heavy. 

"  This  is  where  we  crush  the  malt,"  said  Mr.  Bunker — "  see !" 
He  stooped,  and  picked  out  of  a  great  box  a  handful  of  the 
newly  crushed  malt.  "  I  suppose  you  thought  it  was  roasted. 
Roasting,  young  lady,"  he  added,  with  severity,  '*  is  for  Stout, 
not  for  Ale !" 

Then  he  took  her  to  another  place,  and  showed  her  where  the 
liquor  stood  to  ferment ;  how  it  was  cooled,  how  it  was  passed 
from  one  vat  to  another,  how  it  was  stored  and  kept  in  vats, 
dwelling'  perpetually  on  the  magnitude  of  the  business,  and  the 
irony  of  fortune  in  conferring  this  great  gift  upon  a  girl. 

''  I  know  now,"  she  interrupted,  "  what  the  place  smells  like. 
It  is  fusel-oil."  They  were  standing  on  a  floor  of  open  iron 
bars,  above  a  row  of  long,  covered  vats,  within  which  the  liquor 
was  working  and  fermenting.  Every  now  and  then  there  would 
be  a  heaving  of  the  surface,  and  a  quantity  of  malt  would  then 
move  suddenly  over. 

"  We  are  famous,"  said  Mr.  Bunker — "  I  say  we,  having  been 
the  confidential  friend  and  adviser  of  the  late  Mr.  Messenger, 
deceased — we  are  famous  for  our  Stout ;  also  for  our  Mild ;  and 
we  are  now  reviving  our  Bitter,  which  we  had  partially  neglected. 
We  use  the  artesian  well,  which  is  four  hundred  feet  deep,  for 
our  Stout,  but  the  Company's  water  for  our  Ales ;  and  our  water- 
rate  is  two  thousand  pounds  a  year.     The  artesian  well  gives 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  53 

the  ale  a  gray  color,  whicli  people  don't  like.  Come  into  this 
room,  now"  —  it  was  another  great  hall  covered  with  sacks. 
"  Hops  again.  Miss  Kennedy ;  now,  that  little  lot  is  worth  ten 
thousand  pounds — ten  thousand — think  of  that;  and  it  is  all 
spoiled  by  the  rain  and  has  to  be  thrown  away.  We  think  noth- 
ing of  losing  ten  thousand  pounds  here,  nothing  at  all !" — he 
snapped  his  fingers — "  it  is  a  mere  trifle  to  the  girl  who  sits  at 
home  and  takes  the  profits  !" 

He  spoke  as  if  he  felt  a  personal  animosity  to  the  girl.  Angela 
told  him  so. 

"  No  wonder,"  he  said ;  "  she  took  all  the  legacy  that  ought 
to  have  been  mine :  no  man  can  forgive  that.  You  are  young, 
Miss  Kennedy,  and  are  only  beginning  business ;  mark  my 
words,  one  of  these  days  you  will  feel  how  hard  it  is  to  put  a 
little  by — work  as  hard  as  you  may — while  here  is  this  one  hav- 
ing it  put  by  for  her,  thousands  a  day,  and  doing  nothing  for  it 
— nothing  at  all." 

Then  they  went  into  more  great  halls,  and  up  more  stairs,  and 
on  to  the  roof,  and  saw  more  piles  of  sacks,  more  malt,  and 
more  hops.  When  they  smelled  the  hops,  it  seemed  as  if  their 
throats  were  tightened ;  when  they  smelled  the  fermentation,  it 
seemed  as  if  they  were  smelling  fusel-oil ;  when  they  smelled 
the  plain  crushed  malt,  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  getting  swiftly, 
but  sleepily,  drunk.  Everywhere  and  always  the  steam  rolled 
backward  and  forward,  and  the  grinding  of  the  machinery 
went  on,  and  the  roaring  of  the  furnaces ;  and  the  men  went 
about  to  and  fro  at  their  work.  They  did  not  seem  hard-worked, 
nor  were  they  pressed ;  their  movements  were  leisurely,  as  if 
beer  were  not  a  thing  to  hurry ;  they  were  all  rather  pale  of 
cheek,  but  fat  and  jolly,  as  if  the  beer  was  good  and  agreed 
with  them.  Some  wore  brown-paper  caps,  for  it  was  a  pretty 
draughty  place ;  some  went  bareheaded,  some  wore  the  little 
round  hat  in  fashion.  And  they  went  to  another  part,  where 
men  were  rolling  barrels  about  as  if  they  had  been  skittles,  and 
here  they  saw  vats  holding  three  thousand  barrels ;  and  one 
thought  of  giant  armies — say  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
thirsty  Germans — beginning  the  loot  of  London  with  one  of 
these  royal  vats.  And  they  went  through  stables  where  hun- 
dreds of  horses  were  stalled  at  night,  each  as  big  as  an  elephant, 
and  much  more  useful. 


64  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

In  one  great  room,  where  there  was  the  biggest  vat  of  all,  a 
man  brought  them  beer  to  taste :  it  was  Messenger's  Stout. 
Angela  took  her  glass  and  put  it  to  her  lips  with  a  strange  emo- 
tion— she  felt  as  if  she  should  like  a  quiet  place  to  sit  down  in 
and  cry.  The  great  place  was  hers — all  liers — and  this  was  the 
beer  with  which  her  mighty  fortune  had  been  made. 

"  Is  it,"  she  asked,  looking  at  the  heavy  foam  of  the  frothing 
stout — "  is  this  Messenger's  Entire  ?" 

Bunker  sat  down  and  drank  off  his  glass  before  replying. 
Then  he  laid  his  hands  upon  his  stick  and  made  answer,  slowly, 
remembering  that  he  was  engaged  at  half  a  crown  an  hour,  which 
is  one  halfpenny  a  minute. 

"This  is  not  Entire,"  he  said.  "You  see.  Miss  Kennedy, 
there's  fashions  in  beer,  same  as  in  clothes;  once  it  was  all 
Cooper,  now  you  never  hear  of  Cooper.  Then  it  was  all  Half- 
an-arf — you  never  hear  of  any  one  ordering  Half-an-arf  now. 
Then  it  was  Stout.  Nothing  would  go  down  but  Stout,  which  I 
recommend  myself,  and  find  it  nourishing.  Next  Bitter  came 
in,  and  honest  Stout  was  despised ;  now,  we're  all  for  Mild.  As 
for  Entire,  why — bless  my  soul ! — Entire  went  out  before  I  was 
born.  Why,  it  was  Entire  which  made  the  fortune  of  the  first 
Messenger  that  was — a  poor  little  brewery  he  had  more  than  a 
hundred  years  ago,  in  this  very  place,  because  it  was  cheap  for 
rent.  In  those  days  they  used  to  brew  Strong  ale,  Old  and 
Strong ;  Stout,  same  as  now ;  and  Twopenny,  which  was  small 
beer.  And  because  the  Old  ale  was  too  strong,  and  the  Stout 
too  dear,  and  the  Twopenny  too  weak,  the  people  used  to  mix 
them  all  three  together,  and  they  called  them  '  Three  Threads ;' 
and  you  may  fancy  the  trouble  it  was  for  the  pot-boys  to  go  to 
one  cask  after  another,  all  day  long,  because  they  had  no  beer- 
engines  then.  Well,  what  did  Mr.  Messenger  do  ?  He  brewed 
a  beer  as  strong  as  the  Three  Threads,  and  he  called  it  Messen- 
ger's Entire  Three  Threads,  meaning  that  here  you  had  'em  all 
in  one — and  that's  what  made  his  fortune  :  and  now,  young  lady, 
you've  seen  all  I've  got  to  show  you,  and  we  will  go." 

"  I  make  bold,  young  woman,"  he  said,  as  they  went  away, 
"  to  give  you  a  warning  about  my  nephew.  He's  a  good-look- 
ing chap,  for  all  he's  worthless,  though  it's  a  touch-and-go  style 
that's  not  my  idea  of  good  looks.  Still,  no  doubt  some  would 
think  him  handsome.     Well,  I  warn  you." 


ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN.  65 

"  That  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Bunker.  Why  do  you  warn 
me?" 

"  Why,  anybody  can  see  already  that  he's  taken  with  your 
good  looks.  Don't  encourage  him.  Don't  keep  company  with 
him.  He's  been  away  a  good  many  years — in  America — and  I 
fear  he's  been  in  bad  company." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that." 

"You  saw  his  sniggerin',  sneerin'  way  with  me,  his  uncle. 
That  doesn't  look  the  right  sort  of  man  to  take  up  with,  I  think. 
And  as  for  work,  he  seems  not  to  want  any.  Says  he  can  afford 
to  wait  a  bit.  Talks  about  opening  a  cabinet-makin'  shop.  Well, 
he  will  have  none  of  my  money.  I  tell  him  that  beforehand. 
A  young  jackanapes !  A  painted  peacock !  I  believe,  Miss 
Kennedy,  that  he  drinks.  Don't  have  nothing  to  say  to  him. 
As  to  what  he  did  in  the  States,  and  why  he  left  the  country,  I 
don't  know,  and  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  ask." 

With  this  warning  he  left  her,  and  Angela  went  home  trying 
to  realize  her  own  great  possessions.  Hundreds  of  houses ;  rows 
of  streets ;  this  enormous  brewery,  working  day  after  day  for 
her  profit  and  advantage  ;  and  these  invested  moneys,  these  rows 
of  figures  which  represented  her  personal  property.  All  hers ! 
All  her  own  !  All  the  property  of  a  girl !  Surely,  she  thought, 
this  was  a  heavy  burden  to  be  laid  on  one  frail  back. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    CARES    OF    WEALTH. 


It  is,  perhaps,  a  survival  of  feudal  customs  that  in  English 
minds  a  kind  of  proprietorship  is  assumed  over  one's  depend- 
ants, those  who  labor  for  a  man  and  are  paid  by  him.  It  was 
this  feeling  of  responsibility  which  had  entered  into  the  mind 
of  Angela,  and  was  now  firmly  fixed  there.  All  these  men,  this 
army  of  seven  hundred  brewers,  drivers,  clerks,  accountants,  and 
the  rest,  seemed  to  belong  to  her.  Not  only  did  she  pay  them 
the  wages  and  salaries  which  gave  them  their  daily  bread,  but 
they  lived  in  her  own  houses  among  the  streets  which  lie  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  of  the  Mile  End  lioad.     The  very  chapels 


56  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

in  which  they  worshipped,  being  mostly  of  some  Nonconformist 
sect,  stood  on  her  own  ground — everything  was  hers. 

The  richest  heiress  in  England !  She  repeated  this  to  herself 
over  and  over  again,  in  order  to  accustom  herself  to  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  her  position,  not  to  the  pride  of  it.  If  she 
dwelt  too  long  upon  the  subject,  her  brain  reeled.  What  was 
she  to  do  with  all  her  money  ?  A  man — like  her  grandfather — 
often  feels  joy  in  the  mere  amassing  of  wealth :  to  see  it  grow 
is  enough  pleasure  :  other  men  in  their  old  age  sigh  over  bygone 
years,  which  seem  to  have  failed  in  labor  or  effort.  Then  men 
sigh  over  bygone  days  in  which  more  might  have  been  saved. 
But  girls  cannot  be  expected  to  reach  these  heights.  Angela 
only  weakly  thought  what  an  immense  sum  of  money  she  had, 
and  asked  herself  what  she  could  do,  and  how  she  should  spend 
her  wealth  to  the  best  advantage. 

The  most  pitiable  circumstance  attending  the  possession  of 
wealth  is  that  no  one  sympathizes  with  the  possessor.  Yet  his 
or  her  sufferings  are  sometimes  very  great.  They  begin  at 
school,  where  a  boy  or  a  girl  who  is  going  to  be  very  rich  feels 
already  set  apart.  He  loses  the  greatest  spur  to  action.  It  is 
when  they  grow  up,  however,  that  the  real  trouble  begins.  For 
a  girl  with  large  possessions  is  always  suspicious  lest  a  man 
should  pretend  to  love  her  for  the  sake  of  her  money :  she  has 
to  suspect  all  kinds  of  people  who  want  her  to  give,  lend,  ad- 
vance, or  promise  them  money ;  she  is  the  mere  butt  of  every 
society,  hospital,  and  institution ;  her  table  is  crowded  every 
morning  with  letters  from  decayed  gentlewomen  and  necessitous 
clergymen  and  recommenders  of  "  cases  ;"  she  longs  to  do  good 
in  her  generation,  but  does  not  know  how ;  she  is  expected  to 
buy  quantities  of  things  which  she  does  not  want,  and  to  pay 
exorbitant  prices  for  everything ;  she  has  to  be  a  patron  of  art ; 
she  is  invited  to  supply  every  woman  throughout  the  country, 
who  wants  a  mangle,  with  that  useful  article ;  she  is  told  that  it 
is  her  duty  to  build  new  churches  over  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land ;  she  is  earnestly  urged  to  endow  new  colonial  bish- 
oprics over  all  the  surface  of  the  habitable  globe.  Then  she  has 
to  live  in  a  great  house  and  have  troops  of  idle  servants.  And, 
whether  she  likes  it  or  not,  she  has  to  go  a  great  deal  into  society. 

All  this,  without  the  least  sympathy  or  pity  from  those  who 
ought  to  feel  for  her,  who  are  in  the  happy  position  of  having 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  67 

no  money.  Nobody  pities  an  heiress :  to  express  pity  would 
seem  like  an  exaggerated  affectation  of  virtue,  tlie  merest  ped- 
antry of  superiority ;  it  would  not  be  believed.  Therefore, 
while  all  the  world  is  agreed  in  envying  her,  she  is  bemoaning 
her  sad  fate.     Fortunately,  she  is  rare. 

As  yet,  Angela  was  only  just  at  the  commencement  of  her 
troubles.  The  girls  at  Newnham  had  not  spoiled  her  by  flattery 
or  envy ;  some  of  them  even  pitied  her  sad  burden  of  money ; 
she  had  as  yet  only  realized  part  of  the  terrible  isolation  of 
wealth ;  she  had  not  grown  jealous,  or  suspicious,  or  arrogant, 
as  in  advancing  years  often  happens  with  the  very  rich ;  she  had 
not  yet  learned  to  regard  the  whole  world  as  composed  entirely 
of  money-grabbers.  All  she  had  felt  hitherto  was  that  she  went 
in  constant  danger  from  interested  wooers,  and  that  youth,  com- 
bined with  money-bags,  is  an  irresistible  attraction  to  men  of  all 
ages.  Now,  however,  for  the  first  time  she  understood  the  mag- 
nitude of  her  possessions,  and  felt  the  real  weight  of  her  re- 
sponsibilities. She  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  hundreds  of  men 
working  for  her ;  she  saw  the  houses  whose  tenants  paid  rent 
to  her ;  she  visited  her  great  brewery ;  and  she  asked  herself 
the  question,  which  Dives  no  doubt  frequently  asked — What 
she  had  done  to  be  specially  set  apart  and  selected  from  hu- 
manity as  an  exception  to  the  rule  of  labor?  Even  Bunker's 
complaint  about  the  difficulty  of  putting  by  a  little,  and  his 
indignation  because  she  herself  could  put  by  so  much,  seemed 
pathetic. 

She  walked  about  the  sad  and  monotonous  streets  of  East 
London,  reflecting  upon  these  subjects.  She  did  not  know 
where  she  was,  nor  the  name  of  any  street ;  in  a  general  way 
she  knew  that  most  of  the  street  probably  belonged  to  herself, 
and  that  it  was  an  inexpressibly  dreary  street.  When  she  was 
tired  she  asked  her  way  back  again.  No  one  insulted  her ;  no 
one  troubled  her ;  no  one  turned  aside  to  look  at  her.  When 
she  went  home  she  sat,  silent  for  the  most  part,  in  the  common 
sitting-room.  The  boarding-house  was  inexpressibly  stupid  ex- 
cept when  the  sprightly  young  mechanic  was  present,  and  she 
was  even  angry  with  herself  for  finding  his  society  pleasant. 
What  could  there  be,  she  asked,  in  common  between  herself 
and  this  workman  ?  Then  she  wondered,  remembering  that  so 
far  she  had  found  nothing  in  her  own  mind  that  was  not  also  in 
.3* 


68  ALL    SORTS   AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MBN. 

his.  Could  it  be  that  two  years  of  Newnham  had  elevated  her 
mentally  no  higher  than  the  level  of  a  cabinet-maker  ? 

Her  meditation  brought  her,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  to 
the  point  of  action.  She  would  do  something.  She  therefore 
wrote  a  letter  instructing  her  solicitors  to  get  her,  immediately, 
two  reports,  carefully  drawn  up. 

First,  she  would  have  a  report  on  the  brewery,  its  average 
profit  for  the  last  ten  years,  with  a  list  of  all  the  employees,  the 
number  of  years'  service,  the  pay  they  received,  and,  as  regards 
the  juniors,  the  characters  they  bore. 

Next,  she  wanted  a  report  on  her  property  at  the  East  End, 
with  a  list  of  her  tenants,  their  occupations  and  trades,  and  a 
map  showing  the  position  of  her  houses. 

When  she  had  got  these  reports  she  would  be,  she  felt,  in  a 
position  to  work  upon  them. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Bunker  not  having  yet  succeeded  in  finding  a 
house  suitable  for  her  dressmaking  business,  she  had  nothing 
to  do  but  to  go  on  walking  about  and  to  make  herself  acquainted 
with  the  place.  Once  or  twice  she  was  joined  by  the  idle  ap- 
prentice, who,  to  do  him  justice,  was  always  ready  to  devote  his 
unprofitable  time  to  these  excursions,  which  his  sprightliness 
enlivened. 

There  is  a  good  deal  to  see  in  and  about  Stepney,  though  it 
can  hardly  be  called  a  beautiful  suburb.  Formerly  it  was  a  very 
big  place,  so  big  that,  though  Bethnal  Green  was  once  chopped 
off  at  one  end  and  Limehouse  at  the  other,  not  to  speak  of  Shad- 
well,  Wapping,  Stratford,  and  other  great  cantles,  there  still  re- 
mains a  parish  as  big  as  St.  Pancras.  Yet,  though  it  is  big,  it 
is  not  proud.  Great  men  have  not  been  born  there  or  lived 
there :  there  are  no  associations.  Stepney  Green  has  not  even 
got  its  Polly,  like  Paddington  Green  and  Wapping  Old  Stairs ; 
the  streets  are  all  mean,  and  the  people  for  the  most  part  stand 
upon  that  level  where  respectability — beautiful  quality  1 — begins. 

"  Do  you  know  the  West  End  ?"  Angela  asked  her  companion 
when  they  were  gazing  together  upon  an  unlovely  avenue  of 
small  houses  which  formed  a  street.  She  was  thinking  how 
monotonous  must  be  the  daily  life  in  these  dreary  streets. 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  West  End.  What  is  it  you  regret  in  your 
comparison  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  59 

Angela  hesitated. 

"  There  are  no  carriages  here,"  said  the  workman ;  "  no  foot- 
men in  powder  or  coachmen  in  wigs ;  there  are  no  ladies  on 
horseback,  no  great  squares  with  big  houses,  no  club,  no  opera- 
house,  no  picture-galleries.     All  the  rest  of  life  is  here." 

"  But  these  things  make  life,"  said  the  heiress.  "  Without 
society  and  art,  what  is  life  ?" 

"  Perhaps  these  people  find  other  pleasures  ;  perhaps  the  mo- 
notony gets  relieved  by  hope  and  anxiety  and  love  and  death, 
and  such  things,"  The  young  man  forgot  how  the  weight  of 
this  monotony  had  fallen  upon  his  own  brain :  he  remembered, 
now,  that  his  companion  would  probably  have  to  face  this  dreari- 
ness all  her  life,  and  he  tried  in  a  kindly  spirit  to  divert  her 
mind  from  the  thought  of  it.  "  You  forget  that  each  life  is  in- 
dividual, and  has  its  own  separate  interests ;  and  these  are  apart 
from  the  conditions  which  surround  it.  Do  you  know  my  cousin, 
Tom  Coppin  ?" 

"  No ;  what  is  he  ?" 

"  He  is  a  printer  by  trade.  Of  late  years  he  has  been  engaged 
in  setting  up  atheistic  publications.  Of  course,  this  occupation 
has  had  the  effect  of  making  him  an  earnest  Christian.  Now 
he  is  a  captain  of  the  Salvation  Army." 

"  But  1  thought—" 

"  Don't  think,  Miss  Kennedy ;  look  about  and  see  for  your- 
self. He  lives  on  five-and-twenty  shillings  a  week,  in  one  room, 
in  just  such  a  street  as  this.  I  laughed  at  him  at  first;  now  I 
laugh  no  longer.  You  can't  laugh  at  a  man  who  spends  his 
whole  life  preaching  and  singing  hymns  among  the  Whitechapel 
roughs,  taking  as  part  of  the  day's  work  all  the  rotten  eggs, 
brickbats,  and  kicks  that  come  in  his  way.  Do  you  think  his 
life  would  be  less  monotonous  if  he  lived  in  Belgrave  Square  ?" 

"But  all  are  not  preachers  and  captains  in  the  Salvation 
Army." 

"  No  ;  there  is  my  cousin  Dick.  "We  are,  very  properly,  Tom, 
Dick,  and  Harry.  Dick  is,  like  myself,  a  cabinet- maker.  He  is 
also  a  politician,  and  you  may  hear  him  at  his  club  denouncing 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  Church,  and  monarchical  institu- 
tions, and  hereditary  everything,  till  you  wonder  the  people  do 
not  rise  and  tear  all  down.  They  don't,  you  see,  because  they 
are  quite  accustomed  to  big  talk,  and  it  never  means  anything, 


60  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

and  they  are  not  really  touched  by  the  dreadful  wickedness  of 
the  peers." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  your  cousins." 

"  You  shall.  They  don't  like  me,  because  I  have  been  brought 
up  in  a  somewhat  different  school.  But  that  does  not  greatly 
matter." 

"  Will  they  like  me  ?"  It  was  a  very  innocent  question,  put 
in  perfect  innocence,  and  yet  the  young  man  blushed. 

"Everybody,"  he  said,  "is  bound  to  like  you." 

She  changed  color  and  became  silent  for  a  while. 

He  went  on  presently : 

"We  are  all  as  happy  as  we  deserve  to  be,  I  suppose.  If 
these  people  knew  what  to  do  in  order  to  make  themselves  hap- 
pier, they  would  go  and  do  that  thing.  Meantime,  there  is  al- 
ways love  for  everybody,  and  success,  and  presently  the  end — 
is  not  life  everywhere  monotonous  ?" 

"  No,"  she  replied,  stoutly ;  "  mine  is  not." 

He  was  thinking  at  the  moment  that  of  all  lives  a  dressmaker's 
must  be  one  of  the  most  monotonous.  She  remembered  that 
she  was  a  dressmaker,  and  explained. 

"  There  are  the  changes  of  fashion,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  young,"  he  replied,  from  his  vantage- 
ground  of  twenty-three  years,  being  two  years  her  superior. 
"  Mine  is  monotonous  when  I  come  to  think  of  it.  Only,  you 
see,  one  does  not  think  of  it  of  tener  than  one  can  help.  Besides, 
as  far  as  I  have  got,  I  like  the  monotony." 

"  Do  you  like  work  ?" 

"  Not  much,  I  own.     Do  you  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Yet  you  are  going  to  settle  down  at  Stepney." 

"  And  you,  too  ?" 

"  As  for  me,  I  don't  know."  The  young  man  colored  slightly. 
"  I  may  go  away  again  soon,  and  find  work  elsewhere." 

"  I  was  walking  yesterday,"  she  went  on,  "  in  the  great,  great 
churchyard  of  Stepney  Church.     Do  you  know  it  ?" 

"  Yes — that  is,  I  have  not  been  inside  the  walls.  I  am  not 
fond  of  churchyards," 

"  There  they  lie — acres  of  graves.  Thousands  upon  thousands 
of  dead  people,  and  not  one  of  the  whole  host  remembered.  All 
have  lived,  worked,  hoped  much — ^got  a  little,  I  suppose,  and  died. 
And  the  world  none  the  better." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  61 

"  Nay,  that  you  cannot  tell." 

"  Not  one  of  all  remembered,"  she  repeated.  "  There  is  an 
epitaph  in  the  churchyard  which  might  do  for  every  one : 

'  Here  lies  the  body  of  Daniel  Saul, 
Spitalfields  weaver;  and  that  is  all.' 
That  is  all." 

"  What  more  did  the  fellow  deserve  ?"  asked  her  companion. 
"  No  doubt  he  was  a  good  weaver.  Why,  he  has  got  a  groat  post- 
humous reputation.     You  have  quoted  him." 

He  did  not  quite  follow  her  line  of  thought.  She  was  think-  ■ 
ing  in  some  vague  way  of  the  waste  of  material. 

"  They  had  very  little  power  of  raising  the  world,  to  be  sure. 
They  were  quite  poor,- ill-educated,  and  without  resource." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  replied  her  companion,  "  that  nobody  has 
any  power  of  raising  the  world.  Look  at  the  preachers  and  the 
writers  and  the  teachers.  By  their  united  efforts  they  contrive 
to  shore  up  the  world  and  keep  it  from  falling  lower.  Every 
now  and  then  down  we  go,  flop — a  foot  or  two  of  civilization 
lost.  Then  we  lose  a  hundred  years  or  so  until  we  can  get 
shoved  up  again." 

"  Should  not  rich  men  try  to  shove  up,  as  you  call  it  ?" 

"  Some  of  them  do  try,  I  believe,"  he  replied ;  "  I  don't  know 
bow  they  succeed." 

"  Suppose,  for  instance,  this  young  lady,  this  Miss  Messenger, 
who  owns  all  this  property,  were  to  use  it  for  the  benefit  of  the 
people,  how  would  she  begin,  do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  Most  likely  she  would  bestow  a  quanity  of  money  to  a  hos- 
pital, which  would  pauperize  the  doctors,  or  she  would  give  away 
quantities  of  blankets,  bread,  and  beef  in  the  Avinter,  which  would 
pauperize  the  people." 

Angela  sighed. 
,   "  That  is  not  very  encouraging." 

"  W^hat  you  could  do,  by  yourself,  if  you  pleased,  among  the 
working-girls  of  the  place,  would  be,  I  suppose,  worth  ten  times 
what  she  could  do  with  all  her  giving.  I'm  not  much  in  the 
charity  line  myself.  Miss  Kennedy,  but  I  should  say,  from  three 
weeks'  observation  of  the  place  and  conversation  Avith  the  re- 
spectable Bunker,  that  Miss  Messenger's  money  is  best  kept  out' 
of  the  parish,  Avhich  gets  on  very  Avell  without  it." 

"  Her  money  !     Yes,  I  see.     Yet  she  herself^— "     She  paused. 


62  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

"  We  working  men  and  women — ^" 

"You  are  not  a  workingman,  Mr.  Goslett."  She  faced  liim 
with  her  steady,  honest  eyes,  as  if  she  would  read  the  truth  in 
his.     "  Whatever  else  you  are,  you  are  not  a  workingman." 

He  replied  without  the  least  change  of  color : 

"  Indeed,  I  am  the  son  of  Sergeant  Goslett  of  the  — th  Regi- 
ment, who  fell  in  the  Indian  Mutiny.  I  am  the  nephew  of  good 
old  Benjamin  Bunker,  the  virtuous  and  the  disinterested.  I  was 
educated  in  rather  a  better  way  than  most  of  my  class,  that  is  all." 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  have  lived  in  America  ?" 

"  Quite  true."     He  did  not  say  how  long  he  had  lived  there. 

Angela,  with  her  own  guilty  secret,  was  suspicious  that  per- 
haps this  young  man  might  also  have  his. 

"  Men  of  your  class,"  she  said,  "  do  not  as  a  rule  talk  like 
you." 

"  Matter  of  education — that  is  all." 

"And  you  are  really  a  cabinet-maker?" 

"  If  you  will  look  into  my  room  and  see  my  lathe,  I  will  show 
you  specimens  of  my  work,  O  thou  unbeliever !  Did  you  think 
that  I  might  have  *  done  something,'  and  so  be  fain  to  hide  my 
head?" 

It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  suspect  him  in  this  way,  yet  the 
thought  had  crossed  her  mind  that  he  might  be  a  fugitive  from 
the  law  and  society,  protected  for  some  reason  by  Bunker. 

Harry  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  place. 

"What  we  want  here,"  he  said,  "as  it  seems  to  me,  is  a  little 
more  of  the  pleasures  and  graces  of  life.  To  begin  with,  we 
arc  not  poor  and  in  misery,  but  for  the  most  part  fairly  well  off. 
We  have  great  works  here — half  a  dozen  breweries,  though  none 
so  big  as  Messenger's ;  chemical  works,  sugar  refineries,  though 
these  are  a  little  depressed  at  present,  I  believe ;  here  are  all 
the  docks ;  then  we  have  silk-weavers,  rope-makers,  sail-makers, 
match-makers,  cigar-makers ;  we  build  ships ;  we  tackle  jute, 
though  what  jute  is,  and  what  we  do  with  it,  I  know  not ;  we  cut 
corks ;  we  make  soap,  and  we  make  fireworks ;  we  build  boats. 
When  all  our  works  are  in  full  blast  we  make  quantities  of 
money.  See  us  on  Sundays,  we  are  not  a  bad-looking  lot ; 
healthy,  well-dressed,  and  tolerably  rosy.  But  we  have  no 
pleasures." 

"  There  must  be  some." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  63 

"  A  theatre  and  a  music-hall  in  Whitechapel  Road.  That  has 
to  serve  for.two  millions  of  people.  Now,  if  this  young  heiress 
wanted  to  do  any  good,  she  should  build  a  Palace  of  Pleasure 
here." 

"  A  Palace  of  Pleasure !"  she  repeated.  "  It  sounds  well. 
Should  it  be  a  kind  of  Crystal  Palace  ?" 

"  Well  1"  It  was  quite  a  new  idea,  but  he  replied  as  if  he 
had  been  considering  the  subject  for  years.  "  Not  quite — with 
modifications." 

"  Let  us  talk  over  your  Palace  of  Pleasure,"  she  said,  "  at  an- 
other time.     It  sounds  well.     What  else  should  she  do  f ' 

"  That  is  such  a  gigantic  thing,  that  it  seems  enough  for  one 
person  to  attempt.  However,  we  can  find  something  else  for 
her — why,  take  schools.  There  is  not  a  public  school  for  the 
whole  two  millions  of  East  London.  Not  one  place  in  which 
boys — to  say  nothing  of  girls — can  be  brought  up  in  generous 
ideas.  She  must  establish  at  least  half  a  dozen  public  schools  for 
boys,  and  as  many  for  girls." 

"  That  is  a  very  good  idea.     Will  you  write  and  tell  her  so  ?" 

"  Then  there  are  libraries,  reading-rooms,  clubs,  but  all  these 
would  form  part  of  the  Palace  of  Pleasure." 

"Of  course.  I  would  rather  call  it  a  Palace  of  Delight. 
Pleasure  seems  to  touch  a  lower  note.  We  should  have  music- 
rooms  for  concerts  as  well." 

"  And  a  school  for  music."  The  young  man  became  animated 
as  the  scheme  unfolded  itself. 

"  And  a  school  for  dancing." 

"Miss  Kennedy,"  he  said,  with  enthusiasm,  '■'■you  ought  to 
have  the  spending  of  all  this  money !  And — why,  you  would 
hardly  believe  it — but  there  is  not  in  the  whole  of  this  parish 
of  Stepney  a  single  dance  given  in  the  year.  Think  of  that ! 
But  perhaps — "  he  stopped  again. 

"  You  mean  that  dressmakers  do  not,  as  a  rule,  dance  ?  How- 
ever, I  do,  and  so  there  must  be  a  school  for  dancing.  There 
must  be  a  great  college  to  teach  all  these  accomplishments." 

"  Happy  Stepney  !"  cried  the  young  man,  carried  out  of  him- 
self. "  Thrice-happy  Stepney  !  Glorified  Whitechapel !  Beau- 
tiful Bow  !     What  things  await  ye  in  the  fortunate  future  ?" 

He  left  her  at  the  door  of  Bormalack's,  and  went  off  on  some 
voyage  of  discovery  of  his  own.  * 


64  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

The  girl  retreated  to  her  own  room  (she  had  now  hired  a  sit- 
ting-room all  to  herself,  and  paid  three  month's  in  advance),  and 
sat  down  to  think.  Then  she  took  paper  and  pen  and  began  to 
write. 

She  was  writing  down,  while  it  was  hot  in  her  head,  the  three- 
fold scheme  which  this  remarkable  young  workman  had  put  into 
her  head. 

"  We  women  are  weak  creatures,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 
"  We  long  to  be  up  and  doing,  but  we  cannot  carve  out  our 
work  for  ourselves.  A  man  must  be  with  us  to  suggest  or  direct 
it.  The  College  of  Art — yes,  we  will  call  it  the  College  of  Art ; 
the  Palace  of  Delight ;  the  public  schools.  I  should  think  that 
between  the  three  a  good  deal  of  money  might  be  got  through. 
And,  oh,  to  think  of  converting  this  dismal  suburb  into  a  home 
for  refined  and  cultivated  people !" 

In  blissful  revery  she  saw  already  the  mean  houses  turned  into 
red  brick  Queen  Anne  terraces  and  villas ;  the  dingy  streets  were 
planted  with  avenues  of  trees ;  art  flourished  in  the  house  as 
well  as  out  of  it ;   life  was  rendered  gracious,  sweet,  and  lovely. 

And  to  think  that  this  result  was  due  to  the  suggestion  of  a 
common  workingman  1 

.    But,  then,  he  had  lived  in  the  States.     Doubtless  in  the  States 
all  the  workingmen —    But  was  that  possible  ?    . 


CHAPTER   VI. 

A    FIRST    STEP. 

With  this  great  programme  before  her,  the  responsibilities  of 
wealth  were  no  longer  so  oppressive.  When  power  can  be  used 
for  beneficent  purposes,  who  would  not  be  powerful  ?  And  be- 
side the  mighty  shadow  of  this  scheme,  the  smaller  project  for 
which  Bunker  was  finding  a  house  looked  small  indeed.  Yet 
was  it  not  small,  but  great,  and  destined  continually  to  grow 
greater  ? 

Bunker  came  to  see  her  from  day  to  day,  reporting  progress. 
lie  heard  of  a  house  here  or  a  house  there,  and  went  to  see  it, 
but  it  was  too  large ;  and  of  another,  but  it  was  too  small ;  and 


ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN,  65 

of  a  tliird,  but  it  was  not  convenient  for  her  purpose ;  and  so 
on.  Eacli  bouse  took  up  a  wbole  day  in  examination,  and  so 
Bunker's  bill  was  getting  on  witb  great  freedom. 

The  delay,  however,  gave  Angela  time  to  work  out  her  new 
ideas  on  paper.  She  invoked  the  assistance  of  her  friend,  the 
cabinet-maker  with  ideas;  and,  under  the  guise -of  amusing 
themselves,  they  drew  up  a  long  and  business-like  prospectus  of 
the  proposed  new  institutions. 

First,  there  were  the  high-schools,  of  which  she  would  found 
six — three  for  boys  and  three  for  girls.  The  great  feature  of 
these  schools  was  to  be  that  they  should  give  a  liberal  education 
for  a  very  small  fee,  and  that,  in  their  playgrounds,  their  disci- 
pline, and,  as  far  as  possible,  their  hours,  they  were  to  resemble 
the  great  public  schools. 

"  They  must  be  endowed  for  the  masters  and  mistresses'  sal- 
aries, and  with  scholarships ;  and — and — 1  think  the  boys  and 
girls  ought  to  have  dinner  in  the  school,  so  as  not  to  go  home 
all  day ;  and — and — there  will  be  many  things  to  provide  for 
each  school," 

She  looked  as  earnest  over  this  amusement,  Harry  said,  as  if 
she  were  herself  in  possession  of  the  fortune  which  they  were 
thus  administering.  They  agreed  that,  when  the  schools  were 
built,  an  endowment  of  £70,000  each,  which  would  yield  £2000 
a  year,  ought  to  be  enough,  with  the  school  fees,  to  provide  for 
the  education  of  five  hundred  in  each  school.  Then  they  pro- 
ceeded with  the  splendid  plan  of  the  new  college.  It  was 
agreed  that  learning,  properly  so  called,  should  be  entirely  kept 
out  of  the  programme.  No  political  economy,  said  the  Newn- 
ham  student,  should  be  taught  there.  Nor  any  of  the  usual 
things — Latin,  Greek,  mathematics,  and  so  forth — said  the  young 
man  from  the  United  States,     What,  then,  remained  ? 

Everything,  The  difficulty  in  making  such  a  selection  of 
studies  is  to  know  what  to  omit, 

"  We  are  to  have,"  said  Harry,  now  almost  as  enthusiastic  as 
Angela  herself,  "a  thing  never  before  attempted.  We  are  to 
have  a  College  of  Art,  What  a  grand  idea !  It  was  yours.  Miss 
Kennedy," 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  it  was  yours.  If  it  comes  to  anything, 
we  shall  always  remember  that  it  was  yours," 

An  amiable  contest  was  finished  by  their  recollecting  that  it 


66  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIOKS    OP    MEN. 

was  only  a  play,  and  they  laughed  and  went  on,  half  ashamed, 
and  yet  full  of  enthusiasm. 

"  The  College  of  Art !"  he  repeated ;  •'  why,  there  are  a  hun- 
dred kinds  of  art ;  let  us  include  accomplishments." 

They  would ;  they  did. 

They  finally  resolved  that  there  should  be  professors,  lecturers, 
or  teachers,  with  convenient  class-rooms,  theatres,  and  lecture- 
halls  in  the  following  accomplishments  and  graces :  Dancing, 
but  there  must  be  the  old  as  well  as  the  new  kinds  of  dancing. 
The  waltz  was  not  to  exclude  the  minuet,  the  reel,  the  country- 
dance,  or  the  old  square  dances ;  the  pupils  would  also  have  such 
dances  as  the  bolero,  the  tarantella,  and  other  national  jumperies. 
Singing,  which  was  to  be  a  great  feature,  as  anybody  could  sing, 
said  Angela,  if  they  were  taught.  "  Except  my  uncle  Bunker !" 
said  Harry.  Then  there  were  to  be  musical  instruments  of  all 
kinds.  Skating,  bicycling,  lawn-tennis,  racquets,  fives,  and  all 
kinds  of  games ;  rowing,  billiards,  archery,  rifle-shooting.  Then 
there  was  to  be  acting,  with  reading  and  recitation ;  there  were 
to  be  classes  on  gardening,  on  cookery,  and  on  the  laws  of  beauty 
in  costume.  "  The  East  End  shall  be  independent  of  the  rest 
of  the  world  in  fashion,"  said  Angela ;  "  we  will  dress  according 
to  the  rules  of  Art !"  "  You  shall,"  cried  Harry,  "  and  your  own 
girls  shall  be  the  new  dressmakers  to  the  whole  of  glorified  Step- 
ney." Then  there  were  to  be  lectures,  not  in  literature,  but  in 
letter  -  writing,  especially  love  -  letter  writing,  versifying,  novel- 
writing,  and  essay-writing ;  that  is  to  say,  on  the  more  delight- 
ful forms  of  literature — so  that  poets  and  novelists  should  arise, 
and  the  East  End,  hitherto  a  barren  desert,  should  blossom  with 
flowers.  Then  there  was  to  be  a  professor  of  grace,  because  a 
graceful  carriage  of  the  body  is  so  generally  neglected ;  and 
Harry,  who  had  a  slim  figure  and  long  legs,  began  to  indicate 
how  the  professor  would  probably  carry  himself.  Next,  there 
were  to  be  professors  of  painting,  drawing,  sculpture,  and  de- 
sign ;  and  lectures  on  furniture,  color,  and  architecture.  The 
arts  of  photography,  china-painting,  and  so  forth,  were  to  be 
cultivated ;  and  there  were  to  be  classes  for  the  encouragement 
of  leather-work,  crewel-work,  fret-work,  brass-work,  wood  and 
ivory  carving,  and  so  forth. 

"There  shall  be  no  house  in  the  East  End,"  cried  the  girl, 
"  that  shall  not  have  its  panels  painted  by  one  member  of  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP   MEN.  -67 

family,  its  wood-work  carved  by  another,  its  furniture  designed 
by  a  third,  its  windows  planted  with  flowers  by  another." 

Her  eyes  glowed,  her  lips  trembled. 

"  Yoic  ought  to  have  had  the  millions,"  said  Harry. 

"  Nay,  you,  for  you  devised  it  all !"  she  replied.  She  was  so 
glowing,  so  rosy,  so  soft  and  sweet  to  look  upon ;  her  eyes  were 
so  full  of  possible  love — though  of  love  she  was  not  thinking — 
that  almost  the  young  man  fell  upon  his  knees  to  worship  this 
Venus. 

"  And  all  these  beautiful  things,"  she  went  on,  breathless, "  are 
only  designed  for  the  Palace  of  Delight." 

*'  It  shall  stand  somewhere  near  the  central  place,  this  Stepney 
Green,  so  that  all  the  East  can  get  to  it." 

"It  shall  have  many  halls,"  she  went  on.  "One  of  them 
shall  be  for  concerts,  and  there  shall  be  an  organ :  one  of  them 
shall  be  for  a  theatre,  and  there  will  be  a  stage  and  everything ; 
one  shall  be  a  dancing-hall,  one  a  skating-rink,  one  a  hall  for 
lectures,  readings,  and  recitations ;  one  a  picture-gallery,  one  a 
permanent  exhibition  of  our  small  arts.  We  will  have  our  con- 
certs performed  from  our  school  of  music ;  our  plays  shall  be 
played  by  our  amateurs  taught  at  our  School  of  Acting ;  our  ex- 
hibitions shall  be  supplied  by  our  own  people ;  the  things  will 
be  sold,  and  they  will  soon  be  sold  off  and  replaced,  because 
they  will  be  cheap.  Oh  !  oh !  oh !"  She  clasped  her  hands, 
and  fell  back  in  her  chair,  overpowered  with  the  thought. 

"  It  will  cost  much  money,"  said  Harry,  weakly,  as  if  money 
was  any  object — in  dreams. 

"  The  college  must  be  endowed  with  £30,000  a  year,  which  is 
a  million  of  money,"  Angela  replied,  making  a  little  calculation. 
*'  That  money  must  be  found.  As  for  the  palace,  it  will  require 
nothing  but  the  building,  and  a  small  annual  income  to  pay  for 
repairs  and  servants.  It  will  be  governed  by  a  board  of  direc- 
tors, elected  by  the  people  themselves,  to  whom  the  palace  will 
belong.  And  no  one  shall  pay  or  be  paid  for  any  performance. 
And  the  only  condition  of  admission  will  be  good  behavior, 
with  exclusion  as  a  penalty." 

The  thing  which  she  contemplated  was  a  deed  the  like  of 
which  makes  to  tingle  the  ears  of  those  who  hear  it.  To  few, 
indeed,  is  it  given  to  communicate  to  a  whole  nation  this  strange 
and  not  unpleasant  sensation. 


68  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

One  need  not  disguise  the  fact  that  the  possession  of  this 
power,  and  the  knowledge  of  her  own  benevolent  intentions, 
gave  Angela  a  better  opinion  of  herself  than  she  had  ever  known 
before.  Herein,  my  friends,  lies,  if  you  will  rightly  regard  it, 
the  true  reason  of  the  feminine  love  for  power  illustrated  by 
Chaucer.  For  the  few  who  have  from  time  to  time  wielded 
authority  have  ever  been  persuaded  that  they  wielded  it  wisely, 
benevolently,  religiously,  and  have,  of  course,  congratulated  them- 
selves on  the  possession  of  so  much  virtue.  What  mischiefs, 
thought  Elizabeth  of  England,  Catherine  of  Russia,  Semiramis 
of  Babylon,  and  Angela  of  Whitechapel,  might  have  followed 
had  a  less  wise  and  virtuous  person  been  on  the  throne! 

It  was  not  unnatural,  considering  how  much  she  was  with 
Ilarry  at  this  time,  and  how  long  were  their  talks  with  each  other, 
that  she  should  have  him  a  great  deal  in  her  mind.  For  these 
ideas  were  certainly  his,  not  hers.  Newnham,  she  reflected  hum- 
bly, had  not  taught  her  to  originate.  She  knew  that  he  was 
but  a  cabinet-maker  by  trade.  Yet,  when  she  involuntarily  com- 
pared him,  his  talk,  his  manners,  his  bearing,  with  the  men  whom 
she  had  met,  the  young  dons  and  the  undergraduates  of  Cam- 
bridge, the  clever  young  fellows  in  society  who  were  reported 
to  write  for  the  Saturday,  and  the  Berties  and  Algies  of  daily 
life,  she  owned  to  herself  that  in  no  single  point  did  this  cabi- 
net-maker fellow  compare  unfavorably  with  any  of  them.  He 
seemed  as  well  taught  as  the  last-made  Fellow  of  Trinity  who 
came  to  lecture  on  literature  and  poetry  at  Newnham ;  as  culti- 
vated as  the  mediaeval  fellow  who  took  philosophy  and  psycholo- 
gy, and  was  supposed  to  entertain  ideas  on  religion  so  original 
as  to  amount  to  a  fifth  gospel ;  as  quick  as  the  most  thorough- 
going society  man  who  has  access  to  studios,  literary  circles, 
musical  people,  and  aesthetes ;  and  as  careless  as  any  Bertie  or 
Algie  of  the  whole  set.  This  it  was  which  made  her  blush,  be- 
cause, if  he  had  been  a  common  man,  a  mere  Bunker,  he  might, 
with  his  knowledge  of  his  class,  have  proved  so  useful  a  servant 
to  her,  so  admirable  a  vizier.  Now,  unfortunately,  she  felt  that 
she  could  only  make  him  useful  in  this  way  after  she  had  con- 
fided in  him ;  and  that  to  confide  in  him  might  raise  dangerous 
thoughts  in  the  young  man's  head.  No ;  she  must  not  confide 
in  him. 

It  shows  what  a  thoughtful  young  person  Angela  was,  that 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  69 

she  would  blusli  all  by  herself  only  to  think  of  danger  to  Harry 
Gosletl. 

She  passed  all  that  night,  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day  and 
night,  in  a  dream  over  the  Palace  of  Delight  and  the  college  for 
educating  people  in  sweet  and  pleasant  things — the  College  of 
Art. 

On  the  next  morning  a  cold  chill  fell  upon  her,  caused  I  know 
not  how :  not  by  the  weather,  which  was  the  bright  and  hot 
weather  of  last  July ;  not  by  any  ailment  of  her  own,  because 
Angela  owned  the  most  perfect  mechanism  ever  constructed  by 
nature  ;  nor  by  any  unpleasantness  in  the  house,  because,  now 
that  she  had  her  own  room,  she  generally  breakfasted  alone ; 
nor  by  anything  in  the  daily  papers — which  frequently,  by  their 
evil  telegrams  and  terrifying  forebodings,  do  poison  the  spring 
and  fountain-head  of  the  day ;  nor  by  any  letter,  because  the 
only  one  she  had  was  from  Constance  Woodcote,  at  Newnham, 
and  it  told  the  welcome  news  that  she  was  appointed  mathemati- 
cal lecturer  with  so  much  a  head  for  fees,  and  imploring  Angela 
to  remember  her  promise  that  she  would  endow  Newnham  with 
a  scholarship.  Endow  Newnham !  Why,  she  was  going  to 
have  a  brand-new  college  of  her  own,  to  say  nothing  of  the  high- 
schools  for  boys  and  girls.  Perhaps  the  cause  of  her  depression 
was  the  appearance  of  Bunker,  who  came  to  tell  her  that  he  had 
at  last  found  the  house  which  would  suit  her.  No  other  house 
in  the  neighborhood  was  in  any  way  to  compare  with  it ;  the 
house  stood  close  by,  at  the  southwest  corner  of  Stepney 
Green.  It  was  ready  for  occupation ;  the  situation  was  as  de- 
sirable as  that  of  Tirzah  the  Beautiful ;  the  rent  was  extremely 
low,  considering  the  many  advantages ;  all  the  nobility  and 
gentry  of  the  place,  he  declared,  would  flock  round  a  dress- 
maker situated  in  Stepney  Green  itself;  there  were  rooms  for 
showrooms,  with  plenty  of  other  rooms  and  everything  which 
would  be  required ;  finally,  as  if  this  were  an  additional  recom- 
mendation, the  house  belonged  to  himself. 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  said,  with  a  winning  smile,  "  to  make  a  sac- 
rifice of  my  own  interests  in  order  to  oblige  a  young  lady,  and 
I  will  take  a  lower  rent  from  you  than  I  would  from  anybody 
else." 

She  went  with  him  to  "  view "  the  house.  One  looks  at  a 
picture,  a  horse,  an  estate,  a  book,  but  one  "  views "  a  Iioasc. 


70  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Subtle  and  beautiful  distinction,  which  shows  the  poetry  latent 
in  the  heart  of  every  house-agent !  It  was  Bunker's  own.  Surely 
that  was  not  the  reason  why  it  was  let  at  double  the  rent  of  the 
next  house,  which  belonged  to  Angela  herself,  nor  why  the  tenant 
had  to  undertake  all  the  repairs,  paper,  and  painting,  external 
and  internal,  nor  why  the  rent  began  from  that  very  day,  instead 
of  the  half-quarter  or  the  next  quarter-day.  Bunker  himself 
assured  Miss  Kennedy  that  he  had  searched  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood for  a  suitable  place,  but  could  find  none  so  good  as  his 
own  house.  As  for  the  houses  of  the  Messenger  property,  they 
were  liable,  he  said,  to  the  demands  of  a  lawyer's  firm,  which 
had  no  mercy  on  a  tenant,  while  as  for  himself  he  was  full  of 
compassion,  and  alway  ready  to  listen  to  reason.  He  wanted 
no  other  recommendation  than  a  year's  rent  paid  in  advance,  and 
would  undertake  to  execute,  at  the  tenant's  cost,  the  whole  of 
the  painting,  papering,  whitewashing,  roofing,  pipes,  chimneys, 
and  general  work  himself :  "  Whereas,  young  lady,"  he  added, 
"if  you  had  taken  one  of  those  Messenger  houses,  you  cannot 
tell  in  what  hands  you  would  have  found  yourself,  nor  what 
charges  you  would  have  to  pay." 

He  shook  his  fat  head,  and  rattled  his  keys  in  his  pocket. 
So  strong  is  the  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to  believe  what 
is  said,  in  spite  of  all  experience  to  the  contrary,  that  his  victim 
smiled  and  thanked  him,  knowing  very  well  that  the  next  min- 
ute she  would  be  angry  with  herself  for  so  easily  becoming  a 
dupe  to  a  clumsy  rogue. 

She  thanked  him  for  his  consideration,  she  said,  yet  she  was 
uneasily  conscious  that  he  was  overreaching  her  in  some  way, 
and  she  hesitated. 

"  On  the  Green,"  he  said.  "  What  a  position  !  Looking  out 
on  the  garden  !     With  such  rooms  1     And  so  cheap  !" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied,  "  I  must  consult  some  one." 

"  As  to  that,"  he  said,  "  there  may  be  another  tenant ;  I  can't 
keep  offers  open.     Take  it,  miss,  or  leave  it.     There  !" 

While  she  still  hesitated,  he  added  one  more  recommendation. 

"  An  old  house  it  is,  but  solid,  and  will  stand  forever.  Why, 
old  Mr.  Messenger  was  born  here." 

"  Was  he  ?"  she  cried,  "  was  my — was  Mr.  Messenger  actually 
born  here?" 

She  hesitated  no  longer.     She  took  the  house  at  his  own 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  Vl 

price ;  she  accepted  his  terms,  extortionate  and  grasping  as  they 
were. 

When  the  bargain  was  completed — when  she  had  promised 
to  sign  the  agreement  for  a  twelvemonth,  pay  a  year  in  ad- 
vance, and  appoint  the  disinterested  one  her  executor  of  repairs, 
she  returned  to  Bormalack's.  In  the  doorway,  a  cigarette  in 
his  mouth,  lounged  the  idle  apprentice. 

"  I  saw  you,"  he  said,  "  with  the  benevolent  Bunker.  You 
have  fallen  a  prey  to  my  uncle  ?" 

"  I  have  taken  a  house  from  him." 

"  The  two  phrases  are  convertible.  Those  who  take  his  houses 
are  his  victims.     I  hope  no  great  mischief  is  done." 

"  Not  much,  1  think." 

The  young  man  threw  away  his  cigarette, 

"Seriously,  Miss  Kennedy,"  he  said,  "my  good  uncle  will 
possess  himself  of  all  the  money  he  can  get  out  of  you.  Have 
a  care." 

"  He  can  do  me  no  harm  ;  thank  you  all  the  same.  I  wanted 
a  house  soon,  and  he  has  found  me  one.  What  does  it  matter 
if  I  pay  a  little  more  than  I  ought  ?" 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?"  Harry  was  not  versed  in  details  of 
trade,  but  he  knew  enough  to  feel  that  this  kind  of  talk  was  un- 
practical. "  What  does  it  matter  ?  My  dear  young  lady,  if  you 
go  into  business,  you  must  look  after  the  sixpences." 

Miss  Kennedy  looked  embarrassed.  She  had  betrayed  her- 
self, she  thought.  "  I  know — I  know.  But  he  talked  me 
over." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  the  practical  man,  looking  profoundly 
wise,  "  that  he  who  would  save  money  must  even  consider  that 
there  is  a  difference  between  a  guinea  and  a  sovereign ;  and 
that  he  shouldn't  pay  a  cabman  more  than  twice  his  fare,  and 
that  it  is  wrong  to  pay  half  a  guinea  for  Heidsieck  Monopole 
when  he  can  get  Pommery  &  Greno  at  seven-and-sixpence." 

Then  he,  too,  paused  abruptly,  because  he  felt  as  if  he  had 
betrayed  himself.  WTiat  have  cabinet-makers  to  do  with  Pom- 
mery &  Greno  ?  Fortunately,  Angela  did  not  hear  the  latter 
part  of  the  speech.  She  was  reflecting  on  the  ease  with  which 
a  crafty  man — say  Bunker — may  compass  his  ends  with  the 
simple — say  herself." 

"  I  do  not  pretend,"  he  said,  "  to  know  all  the  ropes,  but  I 
F 


72  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

should  not  have  allowed  you  to  be  taken  in  quite  so  readily  by 
this  good  uncle.  Do  you  know" — his  eyes,  when  they  were 
serious,  which  was  not  often,  were  really  good.  Angela  per- 
ceived they  were  serious  now — "  do  you  know  that  the  name 
of  the  uncle  who  was  indirectly,  so  to  speak,  connected  with 
the  Robin  Redbreasts  was  originally  Bunker?  He  changed  it 
after  the  children  were  dead,  and  he  came  into  the  property." 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  with  me,"  she  said,  simply.  "  But  I 
suppose  I  must  take  my  chance  as  other  girls  do." 

"  Most  other  girls  have  got  men  to  advise  them.  Have  you 
no  one?" 

"  I  might  have  " — she  was  thinking  of  her  lawyers,  who  were 
paid  to  advise  her  if  required — "  but  I  will  find  out  things  for 
myself." 

"  And  at  what  a  price !  Are  your  pockets  lined  with  gold, 
Miss  Kennedy  ?"     They  certainly  were,  but  he  did  not  know  it. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  careful.     Thank  you." 

"  As  regards  going  with  you,  I  am  always  at  your  command. 
I  will  be  your  servant,  if  you  will  accept  me  as  such." 

This  was  going  a  step  further  than  seemed  altogether  safe. 
Angela  was  hardly  prepared  to  receive  a  cabinet-maker,  however 
polite  and  refined  he  might  seem,  as  a  lover. 

"  I  believe,"  she  said,  "  that  in  our  class  of  life  it  is  customary 
for  young  people  to  *  keep  company,'  is  it  not  ?" 

*'  It  is  not  uncommon,"  he  replied,  with  much  earnestness. 
*'  The  custom  has  even  been  imitated  by  the  higher  classes." 

"  What  I  mean  is  this,  that  I  am  not  going  to  keep  company 
with  any  one ;  but,  if  you  please  to  help  me,  if  I  ask  your  ad- 
vice, I  shall  be  grateful." 

"  Your  gratitude,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  ought  to  make  any 
man  happy  !" 

"  Your  compliments,"  she  retorted,  "  will  certainly  kill  my 
gratitude  ;  and  now,  Mr.  Goslctt,  don't  you  really  think  that  you 
should  try  to  do  some  work  ?  Is  it  right  to  lounge  away  the 
days  among  the  streets?  Are  your  pockets,  may  I  ask,  lined 
with  gold  ?" 

"  I  am  looking  for  work.  I  am  hunting  everywhere  for  work. 
My  uncle  is  going  to  find  me  a  workshop.  Then  I  shall  request 
the  patronage  of  "the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Stepney,  White- 
chapel,  and  the  Mile  End  Road.     11.  G.  respectfully  solicits  a 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MKN.  73 

trial."  He  laughed  as  if  there  could  be  no  doubt  at  all  about 
the  future,  and  as  if  a  few  years  of  looking  round  were  of  no 
importance.  Then  he  bowed  to  Angela  in  the  character  of  the 
completo  cabinet-maker.  "Orders,  madam,  orders  executed 
with  neatness  and  despatch.  The  highest  price  given  for  sec- 
ond-hand furniture." 

She  had  got  the  house,  however,  though  she  was  going  to 
pay  far  too  much  for  it.  That  was  a  great  thing,  and,  as  the 
more  important  schemes  could  not  be  aU  commenced  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice,  she  would  begin  with  the  lesser — her  dressmak- 
er's shop. 

Here  Mr.  Goslett  could  not  help  her.  She  applied,  therefore, 
again  to  Mr.  Bunker,  who  had  a  registry  office  for  situations 
wanted.  "  My  terms,"  he  said,  "  are  five  shillings  on  applica- 
tion and  five  shillings  for  each  person  engaged." 

He  did  not  say  that  he  took  half  a  crown  from  each  person 
who  wanted  a  place,  and  five  shillings  on  her  getting  the  place. 
His  ways  were  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  on  principle  he  never 
spoke  of  things  which  might  cause  unpleasant  remarks.  Be- 
sides, no  one  knew  the  trouble  he  had  to  take  in  suiting 
people. 

"  I  knew,"  he  said,  "  that  you  would  come  back  to  me.  Peo- 
ple will  only  find  out  my  worth  when  I  am  gone." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  worth  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Bunker,"  said 
Angela. 

"  Pretty  well,  young  lady.  Pretty  well.  Ah !  my  nephews 
will  be  the  gainers.  But  not  what  I  might  have  been  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  meanness,  the — the — hunxiness  of  that  wicked 
old  man." 

**  Do  you  think  you  can  find  me  what  I  want,  Mr.  Bunker  ?" 

"  Can  I  ?"  He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  great  book. 
"Look  at  this  long  list;  all  ready  to  better  themselves.  Ap- 
prentices anxious  to  get  through  their  articles,  and  improvers  to 
be  dressmakers,  and  dressmakers  to  be  forewomen,  and  fore- 
women to  be  mistresses.  That  is  the  way  of  the  world,  young 
lady.  Sweet  contentment,  where  art  thou  ?"  The  pastoral  sim- 
plicity of  his  words  and  attitude  was  inexpressibly  comic. 

"  And  how  are  you  going  to  begin.  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

"  Quietly,  at  first." 
4 


74  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Then  you'll  want  a  matter  of  one  or  two  dressmakers,  and 
half  a  dozen  improvers.     The  apprentices  will  come  later." 

"  What  are  the  general  wages  in  this  part  of  London  ?" 

"  The  dressmakers  get  sixteen  shillings  a  week  ;  the  improv- 
ers six.  They  hring  their  own  dinners,  and  you  give  them  their 
tea.     But  of  course  you  know  all  that." 

'*  Of  course,"  said  Angela,  making  a  note  of  the  fact,  notwith- 
standing. 

"  As  for  one  of  your  dressmakers,  I  can  recommend  you  Re- 
bekah  Hermitage,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Percival  Hermitage.  She 
cannot  get  a  situation,  because  of  her  father's  religious  opinions." 

"  That  seems  strange.     What  are  they  ?" 

"  Why,  he's  minister  of  the  Seventh  -  day  Independents. 
They've  got  a  chapel  in  Redman's  Row;  they  have  their  ser- 
vices on  Saturday  because,  they  say — and  it  seems  true — that 
the  Fourth  Commandment  has  never  been  abolished  any  more 
than  the  rest  of  them.  I  wonder  the  bishops  don't  take  it  up. 
Well,  there  it  is.  On  Saturdays  she  won't  work,  and  on  Sundays 
she  don't  like  to,  because  the  other  people  don't." 

"  Has  she  any  religious  objection,"  asked  Angela,  "  to  work- 
ing on  Monday  or  Tuesday  ?" 

"No;  and  I'll  send  her  over.  Miss  Kennedy,  this  evening,  if 
you  will  see  her.  You'll  get  her  cheap  because  no  one  else  will 
have  her.  Very  good.  Then  there  is  Nelly  Sorensen.  I  know 
she  would  like  to  go  out,  but  her  father  is  particular.  Not 
that  he's  any  right  to  be,  being  a  pauper.  If  a  man  like  me  or 
the  late  Mr.  Messenger,  my  friend,  chooses  to  be  particular,  it's 
nothing  but  right.  As  for  Captain  Sorensen — why,  it's  the  pride 
after  the  fall,  instead  of  before  it.  Which  makes  it,  to  a  sub- 
stantial man,  sickenin'." 

"  Who  is  Captain  Sorensen  ?" 

"  He  lives  in  the  Asylum  along  the  Whitechapel  Road,  only 
ten  mmutes  or  so  from  here.  Nelly  Sorensen  is  as  clever  a 
workwoman  as  you  will  get.  If  I  were  you,  Miss  Kennedy,  I 
would  go  and  find  her  at  home.  Then  you  can  see  her  work 
and  talk  to  her.  As  for  her  father,  keep  him  in  his  right  place. 
Pride  in  an  almshouse !  Why,  you'd  hardly  believe  it ;  but  I 
wanted  to  put  his  girl  in  a  shop  where  they  employ  fifty  hands, 
and  he  wouldn't  have  it,  because  he  didn't  like  the  character  of 
the  proprietor.     Said  he  was  a  grinder  and  an  oppressor.     My 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  75 

answer  to  such  is,  and  always  will  be, '  Take  it  or  leave  it.'  If 
they  won't  take  it,  there's  heaps  that  must.  As  old  Mr.  Mes- 
senger used  to  say,  '  Bunker,  ray  friend,'  or  '  Bunker,  my  only 
friend,'  sometimes,  'your  remarks  is  true  wisdom.'  Yes,  Miss 
Kennedy,  I  will  go  with  you,  to  show  you  the  way."  He  looked 
at  his  watch.  "  Half-past  four.  I  dare  say  it  will  take  half  an 
hour  there  and  back,  which,  with  the  last  quarter-of-an-hour's 
talk,  we  shall  charge  as  an  hour's  time,  which  is  half  a  crown. 
Thank  you.  An  hour,"  he  added,  with  great  feeling — "  an  hour, 
like  a  pint  of  beer,  cannot  be  divided.  And  on  these  easy  terms, 
Miss  Kennedy,  you  will  find  me  always  ready  to  work  for  you 
from  sunrise  to  sunset,  thinking  of  your  interests  even  at  meals, 
po  as  not  to  split  an  hour  or  waste  time,  and  to  save  trouble  in 
reckoning  up." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    TRINITY    ALMSHOUSE. 


From  Stepney  Green  to  the  Trinity  Almshouse  is  not  a  long 
way ;  you  have,  in  fact,  little  more  than  to  pass  through  a  short 
Btreet  and  to  cross  the  road.  But  thfi  road  itself  is  noteworthy ; 
for,  of  all  the  roads  which  lead  mto  London  or  out  of  it,  this 
of  Whitechapel  is  the  broadest  and  the  noblest  by  nature.  Man, 
it  is  true,  has  done  little  to  embellish  it.  There  are  no  avenues 
of  green  and  spreading  lime  and  plane  trees,  as  one  day  there 
shall  be ;  there  are  no  stately  buildings,  towers,  spires,  miracles 
of  architecture  ;  but  only  houses  and  shops  which,  whether  small 
or  big,  are  alike  mean,  unlovely,  and  depressing.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  all,  a  noble  road. 

This  road,  which  is  the  promenade,  breathing-place,  place  of 
resort,  place  of  gossip,  place  of  amusement,  and  place  of  busi- 
ness for  the  greater  part  of  East  London,  stretches  all  the  way 
from  Aldgate  to  Stratford,  being  called  first  the  Whitechapel 
Road,  and  then  the  Mile  End  Road ;  then  the  Bow  Road,  and 
then  the  Stratford  Road.  Under  the  first  name  the  road  has 
acquired  a  reputation  of  the  class  called,  by  moralists,  unenvia- 
ble. The  history  of  police-courts  records,  under  the  general 
heading  of  Whitechapel  Road,  so  many  free  fights,  brave  rob- 


t6  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

beries,  gallant  murders,  dauntless  kickings,  cudgellings,  pommel- 
lings,  pocket-pickings,  shop-liftings,  watch-snatchings,  and  as^ 
saults  on  constables,  witb  such  a  brave  display  of  disorderly 
drunks,  that  the  road  has  come  to  be  regarded  with  admiration 
as  one  of  those  Alsatian  retreats,  growing  every  day  rarer,  which 
are  beyond  and  above  the  law.  It  is  thought  to  be  a  place  where 
manhood  and  personal  bravery  reign  supreme.  Yet  the  road  is 
not  worthy  of  this  reputation :  it  has  of  late  years  become  or- 
derly ;  its  present  condition  is  dull  and  law-abiding,  brilliant  as 
the  past  has  been,  and  whatever  greatness  may  be  in  store  for 
the  future.  Once  out  of  Whitechapel,  and  within  the  respect- 
able region  of  Mile  End,  the  road  has  always  been  eminently  re- 
spectable ;  and  as  regards  dangers  quite  safe,  ever  since  they 
built  the  bridge  over  the  river  Lea,  which  used  now  and  again 
to  have  freshets,  and,  at  such  times,  tried  to  drown  harmless 
people  in  its  ford.  Since  that  bridge  was  built  in  the  time  of 
Edward  I.,  it  matters  not  for  the  freshets.  There  is  not  much 
in  the  Bow  Road  when  the  stranger  gets  there,  in  his  journey 
along  this  great  thoroughfare,  for  him  to  visit,  except  its  alms- 
houses, which  are  many ;  and  the  beautiful  old  church  of  Bow, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  crumbling  slowly  away  in 
the  East  End  fog,  with  its  narrow  strip  of  crowded  churchyard. 
One  hopes  that  before  it  hag  quite  crumbled  away  some  one  will 
go  and  make  a  picture  of  it — an  etching  would  be  best.  At 
Stratford  the  road  divides,  so  that  you  may  turn  to  the  right 
and  get  to  Barking,  or  to  the  left  and  get  to  Epping  Forest. 
And  all  the  way,  for  four  miles,  a  broad  and  noble  road,  which 
must  have  been  carved  originally  out  of  No  Man's  Land,  in  so 
generous  a  spirit  is  it  laid  out.  Angela  is  now  planting  it  with 
trees ;  beneath  the  trees  she  will  set  seats  for  those  who  wish  to 
rest.  Here  and  there  she  will  erect  drinking-fountains.  White- 
chapel Road,  since  her  improvements  began,  has  been  trans- 
formed ;  even  the  bacon  shops  are  beginning  to  look  a  little 
less  rusty ;  and  the  grocers  are  trying  to  live  up  to  the  green 
avenues. 

Angela's  imagination  was  fired  by  this  road  from  the  very 
first,  when  the  idle  apprentice  took  her  into  it  as  into  a  new 
and  strange  country.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  she  realized  the 
meaning  of  the  universal  curse,  from  which  only  herself  and  a 
few  others  arc  unnaturally  exempted  ;  and  this  only  under  heavy 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  17 

penalties  and  the  necessity  of  finding  out  their  own  work  for 
themselves,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  them.  People  think  it 
better  to  choose  their  own  work.  That  is  a  great  mistake.  You 
might  just  as  well  want  to  choose  your  own  disease.  In  the 
West  End,  a  good  many  folk  do  work — and  work  pretty  hard, 
some  of  them — who  need  not,  unless  they  please ;  and  a  good 
many  others  work  who  must,  whether  they  please  or  no ;  but 
somehow  the  forced  labor  is  pushed  into  the  background.  We 
do  not  perceive  its  presence :  people  drive  about  in  carriages, 
as  if  there  were  nothing  to  do ;  people  lounge ;  people  have  lei- 
sure ;  people  do  not  looked  pressed,  or  in  a  hurry,  or  taskmas- 
tered,  or  told  to  make  bricks  without  straw. 

Here,  in  the  East  End,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  no  stroll- 
ers. All  day  long  the  place  is  full  of  passengers  hasting  to  and 
fro,  pushing  each  other  aside,  with  set  and  anxious  faces,  each 
driven  by  the  invisible  scourge  of  necessity  which  makes  slaves 
of  all  mankind.  Do  you  know  that  famous  picture  of  the  Israel- 
ites in  Egypt?  Upon  the  great  block  of  stone  which  the  poor 
wretches  are  painfully  dragging,  while  the  cruel  lash  goads  the 
weak  and  terrifies  the  strong,  there  sits  one  in  authority.  He 
regards  the  herd  of  slaves  with  eyes  terrible  from  their  stony 
gaze.  What  is  it  to  him  whether  the  feeble  suffer  and  perish, 
so  that  Pharaoh's  will  be  done  ?  The  people  of  the  East  re- 
minded Angela,  who  was  an  on-looker  and  had  no  work  to  do, 
of  these  builders  of  pyramids :  they  worked  under  a  taskmaster 
as  relentless  as  that  stony-hearted  captain  or  foreman  of  works. 
If  the  Israelites  desisted,  they  were  flogged  back  to  work  with 
cats  of  many  tails :  if  our  workmen  desist,  they  are  flogged 
back  by  starvation. 

"Let  us  hope,"  said  Harry,  to  whom  Angela  imparted  a  por- 
tion of  the  above  reflection  and  comparison — "  let  us  hope  that 
the  Pharaoh  himself  means  well  and  is  pitiful."  He  spoke  with- 
out his  usual  flippancy,  so  that  perhaps  his  remark  had  some 
meaning  for  himself. 

All  day  long  and  all  the  year  round  there  is  a  constant  fair 
going  on  in  Whitechapel  Road.  It  is  held  upon  the  broad  pave- 
ment, which  was  benevolently  intended,  no  doubt,  for  this  pur- 
pose. Here  are  displayed  all  kinds  of  things :  bits  of  second- 
hand furniture,  such  as  the  head  of  a  wooden  bed,  whose  grimi- 
ness  is  perhaps  exaggerated,  in  order  that  a  purchaser  may  ex- 


Y8  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

pect  something  extraordinarily  cheap.  Here  are  lids  of  pots 
and  saucepans  laid  out,  to  show  that  in  the  warehouse,  of  wliich 
these  things  are  specimens,  will  be  found  the  principal  parts 
of  the  utensils  for  sale;  here  are  unexpected  things,  such  as 
rows  of  skates,  sold  cheap  in  summer ;  light  clothing  in  winter ; 
workmen's  tools  of  every  kind,  including,  perhaps,  the  burglari- 
ous jimmy  ;  second-hand  books — a  miscellaneous  collection,  es- 
tablishing the  fact  that  the  readers  of  books  in  Whitechapel — a 
feeble  and  scanty  folk — read  nothing  at  all  except  sermons  and 
meditations  among  the  tombs ;  second-hand  boots  and  shoes ; 
cutlery ;  hats  and  caps ;  rat-traps  and  mouse-traps  and  bird- 
cages ;  flowers  and  seeds ;  skittles  ;  and  frames  for  photographs. 
Cheap-jacks  have  their  carts  beside  the  pavement,  and  with 
strident  voice  proclaim  the  goodness  of  their  wares,  which  in- 
clude in  this  district  bloaters  and  dried  haddocks,  as  well  as 
crockery.  And  one  is  amazed,  seeing  how  the  open-air  fair  goes 
on,  why  the  shops  are  kept  open  at  all. 

And  always  the  same.  It  saddens  one,  I  know  not  why,  to 
sit  beside  a  river  and  see  the  water  flowing  down  with  never  a 
pause.  It  saddens  one  still  more  to  watch  the  current  of  hu- 
man life  in  this  great  thoroughfare  and  feel  that,  as  it  is  now,  so 
it  was  a  generation  ago,  and  so  it  will  be  a  generation  hence. 
The  bees  in  the  hive  die,  and  are  replaced  by  others  exactly  like 
them,  and  the  honey-making  goes  on  merrily  still.  So,  in  a 
great  street,  the  wagons  always  go  up  and  down  ;  the  passengers 
never  cease ;  the  shop-boy  is  always  behind  the  counter ;  the 
work-girl  is  always  sewing ;  the  workman  is  always  carrying  his 
tools  as  he  goes  to  his  work ;  there  are  always  those  who  stay 
for  half  a  pint,  and  always  those  who  hurry  on.  In  this  endless 
drama,  which  repeats  itself  like  a  musical  box,  the  jeune  premier 
of  to-day  becomes  to-morrow  the  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon. 
The  day  after  to-morrow  he  will  have  disappeared,  gone  to  join 
the  silent  ones  in  the  grim,  unlovely  cemetery  belonging  to  the 
Tower  Hamlets,  which  lies  beyond  Stepney,  and  is  the  reason 
why  on  Sundays  the  "  frequent  funeral  blackens  all  the  road." 

"  One  can  moralize,"  said  Harry  one  day,  after  they  had  been 
exchanging  sentiments  of  enjoyable  sadness,  "  at  this  rate  for- 
ever.    But  it  has  all  been  done  before." 

"  Everything,  I  suppose,"  replied  Angela,  "  has  been  done  be- 
fore.    If  it  has  not  been  done  by  me,  it  is  new — to  me.    It  does 


ALL    SORTS   AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  79 

not  make  it  any  better  for  a  man  wlio  has  to  work  all  the  days 
of  his  life,  and  gets  no  enjoyment  out  of  it,  and  lives  igno- 
bly and  dies  obscurely,  that  the  same  thing  happens  to  most 
people." 

"  We  cannot  help  ourselves."  This  time  it  was  the  cabinet- 
maker who  spoke  to  the  dressmaker.  "We  belong  to  the 
crowd,  and  we  must  live  with  the  crowd.  You  can't  make  much 
glory  out  of  a  mercenary  lathe  nor  out  of  a  dressmaker's  shop — 
can  you.  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

It  was  by  such  reminders,  one  to  the  other,  that  conversations 
of  the  most  delightful  kind,  full  of  speculations  and  compari- 
sons, were  generally  brought  up  short.  When  Angela  remem- 
bered that  she  was  talking  to  an  artisan,  she  froze.  When 
Harry  reflected  that  it  was  a  dressmaker  to  whom  he  was  com- 
municating bits  of  his  inner  soul,  he  checked  himself.  When, 
which  happened  every  day,  they  forgot  their  disguises  for  a 
while,  they  talked  quite  freely,  and  very  prettily  communicated 
all  sorts  of  thoughts,  fancies,  and  opinions  to  each  other ;  inso- 
much that  once  or  twice  a  disagreeable  feeling  would  cross  the 
girl's  mind  that  they  were  perhaps  getting  too  near  the  line  at 
which  "  keeping  company  "  begins  ;  but  he  was  a  young  work- 
man of  good  taste,  and  he  never  presumed. 

She  was  walking  beside  her  guide,  Mr.  Bunker,  and  pondering 
over  these  things  as  she  gazed  down  the  broad  road,  and  recol- 
lected the  talk  she  had  held  in  it ;  and  now  her  heart  was  warm 
within  her,  because  of  the  things  she  thought  and  had  tried  to  say. 

"  Here  we  are,  miss,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  stopping.  "  Here's 
the  Trinity  Almshouse." 

She  awoke  from  her  dream.  It  is  very  odd  to  consider  the 
strange  thoughts  which  flash  upon  one  in  waking.  Angela  sud- 
denly discovered  that  Mr.  Bunker  possessed  a  remarkable  resem- 
'blance  to  a  bear.  His  walk  was  something  like  one,  with  a 
swing  of  the  shoulders,  and  his  hands  were  big  and  his  expres- 
sion was  hungry.     Yes,  he  was  exactly  like  a  bear. 

She  observed  that  she  was  standing  at  a  wicket-gate,  and  that 
over  the  gate  was  the  effigy  of  a  ship  in  full  sail  done  in  stone. 
Mr.  Bunker  opened  the  door,  and  led  the  way  to  the  court  Avithin. 

Then  a  great  stillness  fell  upon  the  girl's  spirit.  Outside, 
the  wagons,  carts,  and  omnibuses  thundered  and  rolled.  You 
could  hear  them  plainly  enough  ;  you  could  hear  the  tramp  of  a 


80  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

thousand  feet.  But  the  noise  outside  was  only  a  contrast  to  the 
quiet  within.  A  wall  of  brick  with  iron  railings  separated  the 
tumult  from  the  calm.  It  seemed  as  if,  within  that  court,  there 
was  no  noise  at  all,  so  sharp  and  sudden  was  the  contrast. 

She  stood  in  an  oblong  court,  separated  from  the  road  by  the 
wall  above  named.  On  either  hand  was  a  row  of  small  houses, 
containing,  apparently,  four  rooms  each.  They  were  built  of 
red  brick,  and  were  bright  and  clean.  Every  house  had  an  iron 
tank  in  front  for  water ;  there  was  a  pavement  of  flags  along 
this  row,  and  a  grass  lawn  occupied  the  middle  of  the  court. 
Upon  the  grass  stood  the  statue  of  a  benefactor,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  court  was  a  chapel.  It  was  a  very  little  chapel,  but  was 
approached  by  a  most  enormous  and  disproportionate  flight  of 
stone  steps,  which  might  have  been  originally  cut  for  a  portal 
of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  The  steps  were  surmounted  by  a  great 
doorway,  which  occupied  the  whole  west  front  of  the  chapel. 
No  one  was  moving  about  the  place  except  an  old  lady,  who  was 
drawing  water  from  her  tank. 

"  Pretty  place,  ain't  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bunker. 

"  It  seems  peaceful  and  quiet,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Place  where  you'd  expect  pride,  ain't  it  ?"  he  went  on,  scorn- 
fully. "  Oh,  yes !  Paupers  and  pride  go  together,  as  is  well 
known.  Lowliness  is  for  them  who've  got  a  bank  and  money 
in  it.     Oh,  yes,  of  course.     Gar !     The  pride  of  an  inmate  ?" 

He  led  the  way,  making  a  most  impertinent  echo  with  the 
heels  of  his  boots.  Angela  observed,  immediately,  that  there 
was  another  court  beyond  the  first.  In  fact,  it  was  larger :  the 
houses  were  of  stone,  and  of  greater  size ;  and  it  Avas,  if  any- 
thing, more  solemnly  quiet.     It  was  possessed  of  silence. 

Here  there  is  another  statue  erected  to  the  memory  of  the 
founder,  who,  it  is  stated  on  the  pedestal,  died,  being  then 
"Comander  of  a  Shipp"  in  the  East  Indies,  in  the  year  1686. 
The  gallant  captain  is  represented  in  the  costume  of  the  period. 
He  wears  a  coat  with  many  buttons,  large  cuffs,  and  full  skirts ; 
the  coat  is  buttoned  a  good  way  below  the  waist,  showing  the 
fair  doublet  within,  also  provided  with  many  buttons.  He  wears 
shoes  with  buckles,  has  a  soft  silk  wrapper  round  his  neck,  and 
a  sash  to  carry  his  sword.  On  his  head  there  is  an  enormous 
wig,  well  adapted  to  serve  the  purpose  for  which  solar  toupees 
were  afterwards  invented.     In  his  right  hand  he  carries  a  sex- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  81 

lant,  many  sizes  bigger  than  those  in  modern  use,  and  at  his 
tcet  dolphins  sport.  A  grass  lawn  covers  this  court,  as  well  as 
the  other,  and  no  voice  or  sound  ever  comes  from  any  of  the 
houses,  whose  occupants  might  well  be  all  dead. 

Mr.  Bunker  turned  to  the  right,  and  presently  rapped  with 
his  knuckles  at  a  door.  Then,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
turned  the  handle,  and  with  a  nod  invited  his  companion  to  fol- 
low him. 

It  was  a  small  but  well-proportioned  room  with  low  ceiling, 
furnished  sufficiently.  There  were  clean  white  curtains  with 
rose-colored  ribbons.  The  window  was  open,  and  in  it  stood  a 
pot  of  mignonette,  now  at  its  best.  At  the  window  sat,  on  one 
side,  an  old  gentleman  with  silvery  white  hair  and  spectacles, 
who  was  reading,  and  on  the  other  side  a  girl  with  work  in  her 
lap,  sewing. 

"  Now,  Cap'n  Sorensen,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  without  the  formal- 
ity of  greeting,  "  I've  got  you  another  chance.  Take  it  or  leave 
it,  since  you  can  afford  to  be  particular.  I  can't ;  I'm  not  rich 
enough.  Ha !"  He  snorted  and  looked  about  him  with  the 
contempt  which  a  man  wlio  has  a  banker  naturally  feels  for  one 
who  hasn't,  and  lives  in  an  almshouse. 

"  "WTiat  is  the  chance  ?"  asked  the  inmate,  meekly,  looking  up. 
When  he  saw  Angela  in  the  doorway  he  rose  and  bowed,  offer- 
ing her  a  chair.  Angela  observed  that  he  was  a  very  tall  old 
man,  and  that  he  had  blue  eyes  and  a  rosy  face — quito  a  young 
face  it  looked — and  was  gentle  of  speech  and  courteous  in  de- 
meanor. "  Is  the  chance  connected  with  this  young  lady,  Mr. 
Bunker?" 

"  It  is,"  said  the  great  man.  *'  Miss  Kennedy,  this  is  the 
young  Avoman  I  told  you  of.  This  young  lady  " — he  indicated 
Angela — "  is  setting  herself  up,  in  a  genteel  way,  in  the  dress- 
making line.  She's  taken  one  of  my  houses  on  the  Green,  and 
she  wants  hands  to  begin  with.  She  comes  here,  Cap'n  Soren- 
sen, on  my  recommendation." 

"  We  are  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Bunker." 

The  girl  was  standing,  her  work  in  her  hands,  looking  at 
Angela,  and  a  little  terrified  by  the  sight  of  so  grand  a  person. 
The  dressmakers  of  her  experience  were  not  young  and  beauti- 
ful ;  mostly  they  were  pinched  with  years,  troubles,  and  anxie- 
ties. W^hen  Angela  began  to  notice  her,  she  saw  that  the  young 
4* 


82  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN. 

work-girl,  who  seemed  about  nineteen  years  of  age,  was  tall, 
rather  too  thin,  and  pretty.  She  did  not  look  strong,  but  her 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  a  delicate  bloom ;  her  eyes,  like  her 
father's,  were  blue ;  her  hair  was  light  and  feathery,  though  she 
brushed  it  as  straight  as  it  would  go.  She  was  dressed,  like 
most  girls  of  her  class,  in  a  frock  of  sober  black. 

Angela  took  her  by  the  hand.  '*  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  kindly, 
"  that  we  shall  be  friends." 

"  Friends  !"  cried  Mr.  Bunker,  aghast.      "  Why,  she's  to  be 

one  of  your  girls !     You  can't  be  friends  with  your  own  girls." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  girl,  blushing  and  abashed,  "  you  would 

like  to  see  some  of  my  work."    She  spread  out  her  work  on  the 

table. 

"  Fine  weather  here,  cap'n,"  Mr.  Bunker  went  on,  striking  an 
attitude  of  patronage,  as  if  the  sun  was  good  indeed  to  shine  on 
an  almshouse.  "  Fine  weather  should  make  grateful  hearts,  espe- 
cially in  them  as  is  provided  for — having  been  improvident  in 
their  youth — with  comfortable  roofs  to  shelter  them." 

"Grateful  hearts,  indeed,  Mr.  Bunker,"  said  the  captain, 
quietly. 

"  Mr.  Bunker,"  Angela  turned  upon  him  with  an  air  of  com- 
mand, and  pointed  to  the  door,  "  you  may  go  now.  You  have 
done  all  I  wanted." 

Mr.  Bunker  turned  very  red.     "  He  could  go !"     Was  he  to 
be  ordered  about  by  every  little  dressmaker  ?     "  lie  could  go  !" 
"  If  the  lady  engages  my  daughter,  Mr.  Bunker,"  said  Captain 
Sorensen,  "  I  will  try  to  find  the  five  shillings  next  week." 

"  Five  shillings !"  cried  Angela.  "  Why,  I  have  just  given 
him  five  shillings  for  his  recommendation." 

Mr.  Bunker  did  not  explain  that  his  practice  was  to  get  five 
shillings  from  both  sides,  but  he  retreated  with  as  much  dignity 
as  could  be  expected. 

He  asked,  outside,  with  shame,  how  it  was  that  he  allowed 
himself  thus  to  be  sat  upon  and  ordered  out  of  the  house  by  a 
mere  girl.  Why  had  he  not  stood  upon  his  dignity  ?  To  be 
told  he  might  go,  and  before  an  inmate — a  common  pauper ! 

There  is  one  consolation  always  open,  thank  Heaven,  for  the 
meanest  of  us  poor  worms  of  earth.  We  are  gifted  with  imag- 
inations; we  can  make  the  impossible  an  actual  fact,  and  can 
with  the  eye  of  the  mind  make  the  unreal  stand  before  us  in  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  83 

flosh.  Therefore,  when  wc  arc  downtrodden,  we  may  proceed, 
witliout  the  trouble  and  danger  of  turning  (which  has  been  knoAvn 
to  bring  total  extinction  upon  a  worm),  to  take  revenge  upon  our 
enemy  in  imagination.  Mr.  Bunker,  who  was  at  this  moment 
uncertain  whether  he  hated  Miss  Kennedy  more  than  he  hated 
his  nephew,  went  home  glowing  with  the  thought  that  but  a  few 
short  months  would  elapse  before  he  should  be  able  to  set  his 
foot  upon  the  former  and  crush  her.  Because,  at  the  rate  she 
was  going  on,  she  would  not  last  more  than  that  time.  Then 
would  he  send  in  his  bills,  sue  her,  sell  her  up,  and  drive  her  out 
of  the  place  stripped  of  the  last  farthing.  *'  lie  might  go  !"  lie, 
Bunker,  was  told  that  he  might  go !  And  in  the  presence  of  an 
inmate !  Then  he  thought  of  his  nephew,  and  while  he  smote 
the  pavement  with  the  iron  end  of  his  umbrella,  a  cold  dew 
appeared  upon  his  nose,  the  place  where  inward  agitation  is  fre- 
quently betrayed  in  this  way,  and  he  shivered,  looking  about 
him  suddenly  as  if  he  were  frightened.  Yet,  what  harm  was 
Harry  Goslett  likely  to  do  him  ? 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  dear  ?"  asked  Angela,  softly,  and 
without  any  inspection  of  the  work  on  the  table.  She  was 
wondering  how  this  pretty,  fragile  flower  should  be  found  in 
Whitechapel.  Oh,  ignorance  of  Newnham !  For  she  might 
have  reflected  that  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  plants  are  found 
in  the  most  savage  places — there  is  beautiful  botanizing,  one  is 
told,  in  the  Ural  Mountains ;  and  that  the  sun  shines  everywhere, 
even,  as  Mr.  Bunker  remarked,  in  an  almshouse ;  and  that  she 
herself  had  gathered  in  the  ugliest  ditches  round  Cambridge  the 
sweetest  flowering  mosses,  the  tenderest  campion,  the  loveliest 
little  herb-robert. 

"  My  name  is  Ellen,"  replied  the  girh 

"  I  call  her  Nelly,"  her  father  answered,  "  and  she  is  a  good 
girl.     Will  you  sit  down,  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

Angela  sat  down  and  proceeded  to  business.  She  said,  ad- 
dressing the  old  man,  but  looking  at  the  child,  that  she  was  set- 
ting up  a  dressmaker's  shop ;  that  she  had  hopes  of  support, 
even  from  the  West  End,  where  she  had  friends ;  that  she  was 
prepared  to  pay  the  proper  wages,  with  certain  other  advantages, 
of  which  more  would  be  said  later  on ;  and  that,  if  Captain 
Sorensen  approved,  she  would  engage  his  daughter  from  that 
day. 


84  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  I  Lave  only  been  out  as  an  improver  as  yet,"  said  Nelly. 
"But  if  you  will  really  try  me  as  a  dressmaker — oh,  father,  it 
is  sixteen  shillings  a  week  1" 

Angela's  heart  smote  her.  A  poor  sixteen  shillings  a  week ! 
And  this  girl  was  delighted  at  the  chance  of  getting  so  much. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Captain  Sorensen  ?  Do  you  want  refer- 
ences, as  Mr.  Bunker  did  ?  I  am  the  granddaughter  of  a  man 
who  was  born  here  and  made — a  little — money  here,  which  he 
left  to  me.     Will  you  let  her  come  to  me  ?" 

"  You  are  the  first  person,"  said  Captain  Sorensen,  "  who  ever, 
in  this  place,  where  work  is  not  so  plentiful  as  hands,  offered 
work  as  if  taking  it  was  a  favor  to  you." 

"  I  want  good  girls — and  nice  girls,"  said  Angela.  "  I  want 
a  house  where  we  shall  all  be  friends." 

The  old  sailor  shook  his  head. 

"  There  is  no  such  house  here,"  he  said,  sadly.  "  It  is  '  take 
it  or  leave  it ' — if  you  won't  take  it,  others  will.  Make  the  poor 
girls  your  friends,  Miss  Kennedy  ?  You  look  and  talk  like  a 
lady  born  and  bred,  and  I  fear  you  will  be  put  upon.  Make 
friends  of  your  servants?  Why,  Mr.  Bunker  will  tell  you  that 
Whitechapel  does  not  carry  on  business  that  way.  But  it  is 
good  of  you  to  try,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  scold  and  drive 
like  the  rest." 

"  You  offended  Mr.  Bunker,  I  learn,  by  refusing  a  place  which 
he  offered,"  said  Angela. 

"  Yes ;  God  knows  if  I  did  right.  We  are  desperately  poor, 
else  we  should  not  be  here.  That  you  may  see  for  yourself. 
Yet  my  blood  boiled  when  I  heard  the  character  of  the  man 
whom  my  Nelly  was  to  serve.  I  could  not  let  her  go.  She  is 
all  I  have,  Miss  Kennedy  " — the  old  man  drew  the  girl  towards 
him  and  held  her,  his  arm  round  her  waist.  "  If  you  will  take 
her  and  treat  her  kindly,  you  will  have — it  isn't  worth  anything, 
perhaps — the  gratitude  of  one  old  man  in  this  world — soon  in 
the  next." 

"Trust  your  daughter  with  me,  Captain  Sorensen,"  Angela 
replied,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Everyl^ody  round  here  is  poor,"  he  went  on.  "  That  makes 
people  hard-hearted ;  there  are  too  many  people  in  trade,  and 
that  makes  them  mean ;  they  are  all  trying  to  undersell  each 
other,  and  that  makes  them  full  of  tricks  and  cheating.     They 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  85 

treat  the  work-girls  worst  because  tliey  cannot  stand  up  for 
themselves.  The  long  hours,  and  the  bad  food,  and  the  poison- 
ous air — think  a  little  of  your  girls,  Miss  Kennedy.  But  you 
will — you  will." 

"  I  will.  Captain  Sorensen." 

"  It  seems  worse  to  us  old  sailors,"  he  went  on.  "  We  have 
had  a  hardish  life,  but  it  has  been  in  open  air.  Old  sailors 
haven't  had  to  cheat  and  lie  for  a  living.  And  we  haven't  been 
brought  up  to  think  of  girls  turning  night  into  day,  and  work- 
ing sixteen  hours  on  end  at  twopence  an  hour.  It  is  hard  to 
think  of  my  poor  girl  " — he  stopped  and  clinched  his  fist.  "  Bet- 
ter to  starve  than  to  drive  such  a  mill !"  lie  was  thinking  of 
the  place  which  he  had  refused. 

"  Let  us  try  each  other,  Nelly,"  she  said,  kissing  her  on  the 
forehead. 

The  captain  took  his  hat  to  escort  her  as  far  as  the  gate. 

"  A  quiet  place,"  he  said,  looking  round  the  little  court,  "  and 
a  happy  place  for  the  last  days  of  improvident  old  men  like  me. 
Yet  some  of  us  grumble.  Forgive  my  plain  speech  about  the 
work." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  Captain  Sorensen.  Will  you 
let  me  call  upon  you  sometimes  ?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  lie  bowed  over  it  with  the  courtesy 
of  a  captain  on  his  own  quarter-deck.  When  she  turned  away 
she  saw  that  a  tear  was  standing  in  his  eyes. 

"  Father  1"  cried  Nelly,  rushing  into  his  arms,  "  did  you  ever 
see  anybody  like  her  ?  Oh  !  oh  !  do  you  think  I  really  shall  do 
for  her  ?" 

"  You  will  do  your  best,  my  dear.  It  is  a  long  time,  I  think, 
since  I  have  seen  and  spoken  with  any  one  like  that.  In  the 
old  days  I've  had  passengers  to  Calcutta  like  her;  but  none 
more  so,  Nelly  ;  no,  never  one  more  so." 

"  You  couldn't,  father."  Ilis  daughter  wanted  no  explanation 
of  this  mysterious  qualification.  "  You  couldn't.  She  is  a  lady, 
father  " — she  looked  up  and  laughed. 

"It's  a  funny  thing  for  a  real  lady  to  open  a  dressmaker's 
shop  on  Stepney  Green,  isn't  it  ?" 

Remark,  if  you  please,  that  this  girl  had  never  once  before, 
in  all  her  life,  conversed  with  a  lady,  using  the  word  in  the 
prejudiced  and  narrow  sense  peculiar  to  the  West  End.     Yet 


86  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

she  discovered  instantly  the  truth.  Whence  this  instinct?  It 
is  a  world  full  of  strange  and  wonderful  things :  the  more  ques- 
tions we  ask,  the  more  we  may ;  and  the  more  things  we  con- 
sider, the  more  incomprehensible  does  the  sum  of  things  appear. 
Inquiring  reader,  I  do  not  know  how  Nelly  divined  that  her 
visitor  was  a  lady. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WHAT    HE    GOT    BY    IT. 


A  dressmaker's  shop,  without  a  dressmaker  to  manage  it, 
would  be,  Angela  considered  in  some  perplexity,  like  a  ship 
without  a  steersman.  She  therefore  awaited  with  some  impa- 
tience the  promised  visit  of  Rebekah  Hermitage,  whom  she  was 
to  "  get  cheap,"  according  to  Bunker,  on  account  of  her  Sabba- 
tarian views. 

She  came  in  the  evening,  while  Angela  was  walking  on  the 
Green  with  the  sprightly  cabinet-maker.  It  was  sunset,  and 
Angela  had  been  remarking  to  her  companion,  with  a  sort  of 
irrational  surprise,  that  the  phenomena  coincident  with  the  close 
of  day  are  just  as  brilliantly  colored  and  lavishly  displayed  for 
the  squalid  East  as  for  the  luxurious  West.  Perhaps,  indeed, 
there  are  not  many  places  in  London  where  sunset  does  produce 
such  good  effects  as  at  Stepney  Green.  The  narrow  strip,  so 
called,  in  shape  resembles  too  nearly  a  closed  umbrella  or  a  thick-- 
ish  walking-stick ;  but  there  are  trees  in  it,  and  beds  of  flowers, 
and  seats  for  those  who  wish  to  sit,  and  walks  for  those  who 
wish  to  walk.  And  the  better  houses  of  the  Green — Bormalack's 
was  on  the  west,  or  dingy  side — are  on  the  east,  and  face  the 
setting  sun.  They  are  of  a  good  age,  at  least  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  old ;  they  are  built  of  a  warm  red  brick,  and  some 
have  doors  ornamented  with  the  old-fashioned  shell,  and  all  have 
an  appearance  of  solid  respectability,  which  makes  the  rest  of 
Stepney  proud  of  them.  Here,  in  former  days,  dwelt  the  aris- 
tocracy of  the  parish ;  and  on  this  side  was  the  house  taken  by 
Angela  for  her  dressmaking  institution,  the  house  in  which  her 
grandfather  was  born.  The  reason  why  the  sunsets  are  more 
splendid  and  the  sunrises  brighter  at  Stepney  than  at  the  oppo- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  87 

site  end  of  London  is,  that  the  sun  sets  behind  the  great  bank 
of  cloud  Avhich  forever  lies  over  London  town.  This  lends  his 
departure  to  the  happy  dwellers  of  the  East  strange  and  won- 
derful effects.  Now,  when  he  rises,  it  is  naturally  in  the  East, 
where  there  is  no  cloud  of  smoke  to  hide  the  brightness  of  his 
face. 

The  Green  this  evening  was  crowded :  it  is  not  so  fashionable 
a  promenade  as  Whitechapel  Road,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
possesses  the  charm  of  comparative  quiet.  There  is  no  noise  of 
vehicles,  but  only  the  shouting  of  children,  the  loud  laughter  of 
some  gaillard  'prentice,  the  coy  giggle  of  the  young  lady  to 
whom  he  has  imparted  his  latest  merry  jape,  the  loud  whispers 
of  ladies  who  are  exchanging  confidences  about  their  complaints 
and  the  complaints  of  their  friends,  and  the  musical  laugh  of 
girls.  The  old  people  had  all  crept  home  ;  the  mothers  were  at 
home  putting  their  children  to  bed ;  the  fathers  were  mostly 
engaged  with  the  evening  pipe,  which  demands  a  chair  within 
four  walls  and  a  glass  of  something  ;  the  Green  was  given  up  to 
youth  ;  and  youth  was  principally  given  up  to  love-making. 

"  In  Arcadia,"  said  Harry,  "  every  nymph  is  wooed,  and  every 
swain — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  his  uncle,  who  pushed 
his  way  through  the  crowd  with  his  usual  important  bustle, 
followed  by  a  "  young  person." 

"  I  looked  for  you  at  Mrs.  Bormalack's,"  he  said  to  Angela, 
reproachfully,  "and  here  you  are — with  this  young  man,  as 
usual.     As  if  my  time  was  no  object  to  you !" 

"  Why  not  with  this  young  man,  Mr.  Bunker  ?"  asked  Angela. 

He  did  not  explain  his  reasons  for  objecting  to  her  companion, 
but  proceeded  to  introduce  his  companion. 

"Here  she  is,  Miss  Kennedy,"  he  said.  "This  is  Rebekah 
Hermitage  :  I've  brought  her  with  me  to  prevent  mistakes.  You 
may  take  her  on  my  recommendation.  Nobody,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Stepney,  wants  a  better  recommendation  than  mine. 
One  of  Bunker's,  they  say,  and  they  ask  no  more." 

"  What  a  beautiful,  Avhat  an  enviable  reputation !"  murmured 
his  nephew.     "  Oh,  that  I  were  one  of  Bunker's !" 

Mr.  Bunker  glared  at  him,  but  answered  not ;  never,  within 
his  present  experience,  had  he  found  himself  at  a  loss  to  give 
indignation  words.  On  occasion,  he  had  been  known  to  swear 
G 


88  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  into  shudders  "  the  immortal  gods  who  heard  him.  To  swear 
at  this  nephew,  however,  this  careless,  sniggering  youth,  who 
looked  and  talked  like  a  "  swell,"  would,  he  felt,  be  more  than 
useless.  The  boy  would  only  snigger  more.  He  would  have 
liked  knocking  him  down,  but  there  were  obvious  reasons  why 
this  was  not  to  be  seriously  contemplated. 

Ue  turned  to  the  girl  who  had  come  with  him. 

"  Rebekah,"  he  said,  with  condescension,  "  you  may  speak  up  ; 
I  told  your  father  I  would  stand  by  jou,  and  I  will." 

**  Do  not,  at  least,"  said  Angela,  in  her  stateliest  manner,  "  be- 
gin by  making  Miss  Hermitage  suppose  she  will  want  your 
support." 

She  saw  before  her  a  girl  about  two  or  three  and  twenty  years 
of  age.  She  was  short  of  stature  and  sturdy.  Her  complexion 
was  dark,  with  black  hair  and  dark  eyes,  and  these  were  bright. 
A  firm  mouth  and  square  chin  gave  her  a  pugnacious  appear- 
ance. In  fact,  she  had  been  fighting  all  her  life,  more  des- 
perately even  than  the  other  girls  about  her,  because  she  was 
heavily  handicapped  by  the  awkwardness  of  her  religion. 

"  Mr.  Bunker,"  said  this  young  person,  who  certainly  did  not 
look  as  if  she  wanted  any  backing  up,  "tells  me  you  want  a 
forewoman." 

"  You  want  a  forewoman,"  echoed  the  agent,  as  if  interpreting 
for  her. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  Angela  replied.  "I  know,  to  begin  with,  all 
about  your  religious  opinions." 

"  She  knows,"  said  the  agent,  standing  between  the  two 
parties,  as  if  retained  for  the  interests  of  both — "  she  knows, 
already,  your  religious  opinions." 

"  Very  well,  miss ;"  Rebekah  looked  disappointed  at  losing 
a  chance  of  expounding  them.  "  Then,  I  can  only  say,  I  can 
nevpr  give  way  in  the  matter  of  truth." 

"  In  truth,"  said  the  agent,  "  she's  as  obstinate  as  a  pig." 

"  I  do  not  expect  it,"  replied  Angela,  feeling  that  the  half-a- 
crown-an-hour  man  was  a  stupendous  nuisance. 

"  She  does  not  expect  it,"  echoed  Mr.  Bunker,  turning  to  Re- 
bekah. "  What  did  I  tell  you  ? — now  you  see  the  effect  of  my 
recommendations." 

"  Take  it  off  the  wages,"  said  Rebekah,  with  an  obvious  effort, 
which  showed  how  vital  was  the  importance  of  the  pay.    "  Take 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  89 

It  off  the  wages,  if  yon  like ;  and,  of  course,  I  can't  expect  to 
labor  for  five  days  and  be  paid  for  six ;  but  on  the  Saturday, 
which  is  the  Sabbath  day,  I  do  no  work  therein — neither  I,  nor 
my  man-servant,  nor  my  maid-servant,  nor  my  ox,  nor  my  ass." 

"  Neither  her  man-servant,  nor  her  maid-servant,  nor  her  ox, 
nor  her  ass,"  repeated  the  agent,  solemnly. 

"  There  is  the  Sunday,  however,"  said  Angela. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  about  Sunday,  now  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Bunker,  with  a  change  of  front. 

"  Of  all  the  days  that's  in  the  week,"  interpolated  the  sprightly 
one,  "  I  dearly  love  but  one  day — and  that's  the  day — " 

Rebekah,  impatient  of  this  frivolity,  stopped  it  at  once. 

"  I  do  as  little  as  I  can,"  she  said,  "  on  Sunday,  because  of 
the  weaker  brethren.     The  Sunday  we  keep  as  a  holiday." 

"  Well — "  Angela  began  rather  to  envy  this  young  woman, 
who  was  a  clear  gainer  of  a  whole  day  by  her  religion — "  well, 
Miss  Hermitage,  will  you  come  to  me  on  trial  ?  Thank  you,  we 
can  settle  about  deductions  afterwards,  if  you  please.  And  if 
you  will  come  to-morrow — that  is  right.  Now,  if  you  please  to 
take  a  turn  with  me,  we  will  talk  things  over  together :  good- 
night, Mr.  Bunker!" 

She  took  the  girl's  arm  and  led  her  away,  being  anxious  to 
get  Bunker  out  of  sight.  The  aspect  of  this  agent  annoyed  and 
irritated  her  almost  beyond  endurance ;  so  she  left  him  with  his 
nephew. 

"  One  of  Bunker's !"  Harry  repeated,  softly. 

<*  You  here  !"  growled  the  uncle  ;  "  dangling  after  a  girl  when 
you  ought  to  be  at  work !  How  long,  I  should  like  to  know, 
are  we  hard-working  Stepney  folk  to  be  troubled  with  an  idle, 
good-for-nothing  vagabond  ?  Eh,  sir  ?  How  long  1  And  don't 
suppose  that  I  mean  to  do  anything  for  you  when  your  money 
is  all  gone.     Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  do  you  hear  ?" 

"  I  hear,  my  uncle  1"  As  usual  the  young  man  laughed ;  he 
sat  upon  the  arm  of  a  garden-seat,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  laughed  an  insolent,  exasperating  laugh.  Now,  Mr.  Bunker 
in  all  his  life  had  never  seen  the  least  necessity  or  occasion  for 
laughing  at  anything  at  all,  far  less  at  himself.  Nor,  hitherto, 
had"  any  one  dared  to  laugh  at  him. 

"  Sniggerin'  peacock  !"  added  Mr.  Bunker,  fiercely,  rattling  a 
bunch  of  keys  in  his  pocket. 


90  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Harry  laughed  again,  with  more  abandon.  This  uncle  of  his, 
who  regarded  him  with  so  much  dislike,  seemed  a  very  humorous 
person. 

"  Connection  by  marriage,"  he  said,  "  there  is  one  question  I 
have  very  much  wished  to  put  to  you.  When  you  traded  me 
away,  now  three-and-twenty  years  ago,  or  thereabouts — you  re- 
member the  circumstances,  I  dare  say,  better  than  I  can  be 
expected  to  do — what  did  you  get  for  me  .^" 

Then  Bunker's  color  changed,  his  cheeks  became  quite  white. 
Harry  thought  it  was  the  effect  of  wrath,  and  went  on. 

"  Half  a  crown  an  hour  during  the  negotiations,  which  I  dare 
say  took  a  week — that  we  understand;  but  what  else?  come, 
my  uncle,  what  else  did  you  get  ?" 

It  was  too  dark  for  the  young  man  to  perceive  the  full  effect 
of  this  question — the  sudden  change  of  color  escaped  his  notice ; 
but  he  observed  a  strange  and  angry  light  in  his  uncle's  eyes, 
and  he  saw  that  he  opened  his  mouth  once  or  twice  as  if  to 
speak,  but  shut  his  lips  again  without  saying  a  word  ;  and  Harry 
was  greatly  surprised  to  see  his  uncle  presently  turn  on  his  heel 
and  walk  straight  away. 

"  That  question  seems  to  be  a  facer ;  it  must  be  repeated  when^ 
ever  the  good  old  man  becomes  offensive.  I  wonder  what  he 
did  get  for  me  ?" 

As  for  Mr.  Bunker,  he  retired  to  his  own  house  in  Beaumont 
Square,  walking  with  quick  steps  and  hanging  head.  He  let 
himself  in  with  his  latch-key,  and  turned  into  his  office,  which, 
of  course,  was  the  first  room  of  the  ground-floor. 

It  was  quite  dark  now,  save  for  the  faint  light  from  the  street 
gas,  but  Mr.  Bunker  did  not  want  any  light. 

He  sat  down  and  rested  his  face  on  his  hands,  with  a  heavy 
sigh.  The  house  was  empty,  because  his  housekeeper  and  only 
servant  was  out.  He  sat  without  moving  for  half  an  hour  or  so ; 
then  he  lifted  his  head,  and  looked  about  him — he  had  forgotten 
where  he  was  and  why  he  came  there — and  he  shuddered. 

Then  he  hastily  lit  a  candle,  and  went  up-stairs  to  his  own  bed- 
room. The  room  had  one  piece  of  furniture  not  always  found 
in  bedrooms :  it  was  a  good-sized  fire-proof  safe,  which  stood 
in  the  corner.  Mr.  Bunker  placed  his  candle  on  the  safe,  and, 
stooping  down,  began  to  grope  about  with  his  keys  for  the 
lock.    It  took  some  time  to  find  the  keyhole ;  when  the  safe  was 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  91 

opened,  it  took  longer  time  to  fin4  the  papers  which  he  wanted, 
for  those  were  at  the  very  back  of  all.  Presently,  however,  he 
lifted  his  head,  with  a  bundle  in  his  hand. 

Now,  if  we  are  obliged  to  account  for  everything,  which  ought 
not  to  be  expected,  and  is  more  than  one  asks  of  scientific  men, 
I  should  account  for  what  followed  by  remarking  that  the  blood 
is  apt  to  get  into  the  brains  of  people,  especially  elderly  people, 
and,  above  all,  stout  elderly  people,  when  they  stoop  for  any 
length  of  time  ;  and  that  history  records  many  remarkable  mani- 
festations of  the  spirit  v>'orld  which  have  followed  a  posture  of 
stooping  too  prolonged.  It  produces,  in  fact,  a  condition  of 
brain  beloved  by  ghosts.  There  is  the  leading  case  of  the  man 
at  Cambridge  who,  after  stooping  for  a  book,  saw  the  ghost  of 
his  own  bed-maker  at  a  time  when  he  knew  her  to  be  in  the 
bosom  of  her  family  eating  up  his  bread-and-butter  and  drink- 
ing his  tea.  Rats  have  been  seen  by  others,  troops  of  rats,  as 
many  rats  as  followed  the  piper,  where  there  were  no  rats ;  and 
there  is  even  the  recorded  case  of  a  man  who  saw  the  ghost  of 
himself,  which  prognosticated  dissolution,  and,  in  fact,  killed 
him  exactly  fifty -two  years  after  the  event.  So  that,  really,  there 
is  nothing  at  all  unusual  in  the  fact  that  Mr.  Bunker  saw  some- 
thing when  he  lifted  his  head.  The  remarkable  thing  is  that  he 
saw  the  very  person  of  whom  he  had  been  thinking  ever  since 
his  nephew's  question — no  other  than  his  deceased  wife's  sister ; 
he  had  never  loved  her  at  all,  or  in  the  least  desired  to  marry 
her,  which  makes  the  case  more  remarkable  still ;  and  she  stood 
before  him,  just  as  if  she  were  alive,  and  gazed  upon  him  with 
reproachful  eyes. 

He  behaved  with  great  coolness  and  presence  of  mind.  Few 
men  would  have  shown  more  bravery.  He  just  dropped  the 
candle  out  of  one  hand  and  the  papers  out  of  the  other,  and  fell 
back  upon  the  bed  with  a  white  face  and  quivering  lips.  Some 
men  would  have  run — he  did  not ;  in  fact,  he  could  not.  His 
knees  instinctively  knew  that  it  is  useless  to  run  from  a  ghost, 
and  refused  to  aid  him. 

"  Caroline  !"  he  groaned. 

As  he  spoke  the  figure  vanished,  making  no  sign  and  saying 
no  Avord.  After  a  while,  seeing  that  the  ghost  came  no  more, 
Mr.  Bunker  pulled  himself  together.  He  picked  up  the  papers 
and  the  candle,  and  went  slowly  down-stairs  again,  turning  every 


92  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

moment  to  see  if  his  sister-in-law  came  too.  But  she  did  not, 
and  he  went  to  the  bright  gas-lit  back-parlor,  where  his  supper 
was  spread. 

After  supper  he  mixed  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  stiff.  After 
drinking  this,  he  mixed  another,  and  began  to  smoke  a  pipe 
while  he  turned  over  the  papers. 

"  He  can't  have  meant  anything,"  he  said.  "  What  should 
the  boy  know  ?  What  did  the  gentleman  know  ?  nothing.  What 
does  anybody  know  ?  nothing.  There's  nobody  left.  The  will 
was  witnessed  by  Mr.  Messenger  and  Bob  Coppin.  Well,  one 
of  them  is  dead,  and  as  for  the  other  " — he  paused  and  winced 
— "as  for  the  other,  it  is  five-and-twenty  years  since  he  was 
heard  of — so  he's  dead,  too :  of  course,  he's  dead." 

Then  he  remembered  the  spectre  and  he  trembled.  For  sup- 
pose Caroline  meant  coming  often :  this  would  be  particularly 
disagreeable.  He  remembered  a  certain  scene  where,  thrcc-and- 
twenty  years  before,  he  had  stood  at  a  bedside  while  a  dying 
woman  spoke  to  him ;  the  words  she  said  were  few,  and  he 
remembered  them  quite  well,  even  after  so  long  a  time,  which 
shows  his  real  goodness  of  heart. 

"  You  are  a  hard  man,  Bunker,  and  you  think  too  much  of 
money;  and  you  were  not  kind  to  your  wife.  But  I'm  going, 
too,  and  there  is  nobody  left  to  trust  my  boy  to,  except  you.  Be 
good  to  him.  Bunker,  for  your  dead  wife's  sake." 

He  remembered,  too,  how  he  had  promised  to  be  good  to  the 
boy,  not  meaning  much  by  the  words,  perhaps,  but  softened  by 
the  presence  of  death. 

"  It  is  not  as  if  the  boy  was  penniless,"  she  said  ;  "  his  houses 
will  pay  you  for  his  keep,  and  to  spare.  You  will  lose  nothing 
by  him.     Promise  me  again." 

He  remembered  that  he  had  promised  a  second  time  that  he 
would  be  good  to  the  boy ;  and  he  remembered,  too,  how  the 
promise  seemed  then  to  involve  great  expense  in  canes. 

"  If  you  break  the  solemn  promise,"  she  said,  with  feminine 
prescience,  "  I  warn  you  that  he  shall  do  you  an  injury  when  he 
grows  up.     Remember  that." 

He  did  remember  it  now,  though  he  had  quite  forgotten  this 
detail  a  long  while  ago.  The  boy  had  returned ;  he  was  grown 
up ;  he  could  do  him  an  injury,  if  he  knew  how.  Because  he 
only  had  to  ask  his  uncle  for  an  account  of  those  houses.     For- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  93 

tunately,  he  did  not  know.  Happily,  there  was  no  one  to  tell 
him.  With  his  third  tumbler  Mr.  Bunker  became  quite  confident 
and  reassured  ;  with  his  fourth  he  felt  inclined  to  be  merry,  and 
to  slap  himself  on  the  back  for  wide-awakedness  of  the  rarest 
kind.  With  his  fifth  he  resolved  to  go  up-stairs  and  tell  Caroline 
that,  unless  she  went  and  told  her  son,  no  one  would.  He  car- 
ried part  of  this  resolution  into  effect ;  that  is  to  say,  he  went  to 
his  bedroom,  and  his  housekeeper,  unobserved  herself,  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  her  master  ascending  the  stairs  on  his  hands 
and  feet,  a  method  which  offers  great  advantages  to  a  gentleman 
who  has  had  five  tumblers  of  brandy-and-water. 

When  he  got  there,  and  had  quite  succeeded  in  shutting  the 
door — not  always  so  easy  a  thing  as  it  looks — Caroline  was  no 
longer  visible.  He  could  not  find  her  anywhere,  though  he  went 
all  round  the  room  twice,  on  all-fours,  in  search  of  her. 

The  really  remarkable  part  of  this  story  is,  that  she  has  never 
paid  a  visit  to  her  son  at  all. 

Meantime  the  strollers  on  the  Green  were  grown  few.  Most 
of  them  had  gone  home ;  but  the  air  was  warm,  and  there  were 
still  some  who  lingered.  Among  them  were  Angela  and  the 
girl  who  was  to  be  her  forewoman. 

When  Rebekah  found  that  her  employer  was  not,  apparently, 
of  those  who  try  to  cheat,  or  bully,  or  cajole  her  subordinates, 
she  lost  her  combative  air,  and  consented  to  talk  about  things. 
She  gave  Angela  a  great  deal  of  information  about  the  prospects 
of  her  venture,  which  were  gloomy,  she  thought,  as  the  competi- 
tion was  so  severe.  She  also  gave  her  an  insight  into  details  of 
a  practical  nature  concerning  the  conduct  of  a  dressmakery,  into 
which  we  need  not  follow  her. 

Angela  discovered,  before  they  parted,  that  she  had  two  sides 
to  her  character :  on  one  side  she  was  a  practical  and  practised 
woman  of  work  and  business,  on  the  other  she  was  a  religious 
fanatic. 

"  We  wait,"  she  said,  "  for  the  world  to  come  round  to  us. 
Oh,  I  know  we  are  but  a  little  body  and  a  poor  folk !  Father  is 
almost  alone ;  but  what  a  thing  it  is  to  be  appointed  keepers  of 
the  truth !  Come  and  hear  us,  Miss  Kennedy.  Father  always 
converts  any  one  who  will  listen  to  him.     Oh,  do  listen  1" 

Then  she,  too,  went  away,  and  Angela  was  left  alone  in  the 


84  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

quiet  place.  Presently  she  became  aware  that  Harry  was  stand- 
ing beside  her. 

"  Don't  let  us  go  home  yet,"  he  said ;  "  Bormalack's  is  des- 
perately dull — you  can  picture  it  all  to  yourself.  The  professor 
has  got  a  new  trick ;  Daniel  Fagg  is  looking  as  if  he  had  met 
with  more  disappointment ;  her  ladyship  is  short  of  temper,  be- 
cause the  case  is  getting  on  so  slowly ;  and  Josephus  is  sighing 
over  a  long  pipe ;  and  Mr.  Maliphant  is  chuckling  to  himself  in 
the  corner.  On  the  whole,  it  is  better  here.  Shall  we  remain  a 
little  longer  in  the  open  air.  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

He  looked  dangerous.  Angela,  who  had  been  disposed  to  be 
expansive,  froze. 

"  We  will  have  one  more  turn,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Goslett." 
She  added,  stiffly,  "  Only  remember — so  long  as  you  don't  think 
of  '  keeping  company.'  " 

"  I  understand  perfectly.  Miss  Kennedy.  '  Society '  is  a  better 
word  than  '  company  :'  let  us  keep  that,  and  make  a  new  depart- 
ure for  Stepney  Green." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

TIIK    DAY    BEFORE    THE    FIRST. 


Mr.  Bunker,  en  bon  chretien,  dissembled  his  wrath,  and  con- 
tinued his  good  work  of  furnishing  and  arranging  the  house  for 
Angela,  insomuch  that  before  many  days  the  place  was  com- 
pletely ready  for  opening. 

In  the  meantime  Miss  Kennedy  was  away — she  went  away  on 
business — and  Bormalack's  was  dull  without  her.  Harry  found 
some  consolation  in  superintending  some  of  the  work  for  her 
house,  and  in  working  at  a  grand  cabinet  which  he  designed  for 
her :  it  was  to  be  a  miracle  of  wood-carving ;  he  would  throw 
into  the  work  all  the  resources  of  his  art  and  all  his  genius. 
When  she  came  back,  after  the  absence  of  a  week,  she  looked 
full  of  business  and  of  care.  Harry  thought  it  must  be  money 
worries,  and  began  to  curse  Bunker's  long  bill ;  but  she  was 
gracious  to  him  in  her  queenly  way.  Moreover,  she  assured  him 
that  all  was  going  on  well  with  her,  better  than  she  could  have 
hoped.     The  evening  before  the  "  Stepney  Dressmakers'  Asso- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  95 

ciation  "  was  to  open  its  doors,  they  all  gathered  together  in  the 
newly  furnished  house  for  a  final  inspection — Angela,  her  two 
aides,  Rebekah  and  Nelly,  and  the  young  man  against  whose 
companionship  Mr.  Banker  had  warned  her  in  vain.  The  house 
was  large,  with  rooms  on  either  side  the  door.  These  were  show- 
rooms and  workrooms.  The  first  floor  Angela  reserved  for  her 
own  purposes,  and  she  was  mysterious  about  them. 

At  the  back  of  the  house  stretched  a  long  and  ample  garden. 
Angela  had  the  whole  of  it  covered  with  asphalt ;  the  beds  of 
flowers  or  lawns  were  all  covered  over.  At  the  end  she  had 
caused  to  be  built  a  large  room  of  glass,  the  object  of  which  she 
had  not  yet  disclosed. 

As  regards  the  appointments  of  the  house,  she  had  taken  one 
precaution — Rebekah  superintended  them.  Mr.  Bunker,  there- 
fore, was  fain  to  restrict  his  enthusiasm,  and  could  not  charge 
more  than  twenty  or  thirty  per  cent,  above  the  market  value  for 
the  things.  But  Rebekah,  though  she  faithfully  carried  out  her 
instructions,  could  not  but  feel  disappointed  at  the  lavish  scale 
in  which  things  "were  ordered  and  paid  for.  The  showrooms 
were  as  fine  as  if  the  place  were  Regent  Street ;  the  workrooms 
were  looked  after  with  as  much  care  for  ventilation  as  if,  Mr. 
Bunker  said,  work-girls  were  countesses. 

"  It  is  too  good,"  Rebekah  expostulated,  "  much  too  good  for 
us.     It  will  only  make  other  girls  discontented." 

"  I  want  to  make  them  discontented,"  Angela  replied.  "  Un- 
less they  are  discontented,  there  will  be  no  improvement. 
Think,  Rebekah,  what  it  is  that  lifts  men  out  of  the  level  of  the 
beasts.  We  find  out  that  there  are  better  things,  and  we  are 
fighting  our  way  upwards.  That  is  the  mystery  of  discontent — 
and  perhaps  of  pain,  as  well." 

"  Ah  !"  Rebekah  saw  that  this  was  not  a  practical  ansAvcr, 
"  But  you  don't  know  yet  the  competition  of  the  East  End,  and 
the  straits  we  are  put  to.     It  is  not  as  at  the  West  End." 

The  golden  West  is  ever  the  Land  of  Promise.  No  need  to 
undeceive ;  let  her  go  on  in  the  belief  that  the  three  thousand 
girls  who  wait  and  work  about  Regent  Street  and  the  great  shops 
are  everywhere  treated  generously,  and  paid  above  the  market 
value  of  their  services.  I  make  no  doubt  myself  that  many  a 
great  mercer  sits  down  when  Christmas  warms  his  heart,  in  his 
mansion  at  Finchlcy,  Campden  Hill,  Fitz-John's  Avenue,  or  Stoke- 


90  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Newington,  and  writes  great  checks  as  gifts  to  the  uncomplain- 
ing girls  who  build  up  his  income. 

"She  would  learn  soon,"  said  Rebekah,  hoping  that  the 
money  would  last  out  till  the  ship  was  fairly  launched. 

She  was  not  suspicious,  but  there  was  something  "  funny,"  as 
Nelly  said,  in  a  girl  of  Miss  Kennedy's  stamp  coming  among 
them.  Why  did  she  choose  Stepney  Green?  Surely,  Bond 
Street  or  Regent  Street  would  be  better  fitted  for  a  lady  of  her 
manners.  How  would  customers  be  received  and  orders  be 
taken  ?  By  herself,  or  by  this  young  lady,  who  would  certainly 
treat  the  ladies  of  Stepney  with  little  of  that  deferential  court- 
esy which  they  expected  of  these  dressmakers?  For,  as  you 
may  have  remarked,  the  lower  you  descend,  as  well  as  the  higher 
you  climb,  the  more  deference  do  the  ladies  receive  at  the  hands 
of  their  tender  folk.  No  duchess  sweeps  into  a  milliner's  show- 
room with  more  dignity  than  her  humble  sister  at  Clare  Market 
on  Saturday  evening  displays  when  she  accepts  the  invitation  of 
the  butcher  to  rally  up,  ladies  !  and  selects  her  Sunday's  piece  of 
beef.  The  ladies  of  Stepney  and  the  Mile  End  Road,  thought 
Rebekah,  look  for  attention.  Would  Miss  Kennedy  give  it  to 
them?  If  Miss  Kennedy  herself  did  not  attend  to  the  show- 
room, what  would  she  do  ? 

On  this  evening,  after  they  had  walked  over  the  whole  house, 
visited  the  asphalted  garden,  and  looked  into  the  great  glass 
room,  Angela  unfolded  her  plans. 

It  was  in  the  workroom.  She  stood  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
looking  about  her  with  an  air  of  pride  and  anxiety.  It  was  her- 
own  design — her  own  scheme  :  small  as  it  was,  compared  with 
that  other  vast  project,  she  was  anxious  about  it.  It  had  to 
succeed  ;  it  must  succeed. 

All  its  success,  she  thought,  depended  upon  that  sturdy  little 
fanatical  Seventh  day  young  person.  It  was  she  who  was  to 
rule  the  place  and  be  the  practical  dressmaker.  And  now  she 
was  to  be  told. 

"  Now,"  said  Angela,  with  some  hesitation,  "  the  time  has  come 
for  an  explanation  of  the  way  we  shall  work.  First  of  all,  will  you, 
Rebebah,  undertake  the  management  and  control  of  the  business?" 

"  I,  Miss  Kennedy  ?     But  what  is  your  department  ?" 

"  I  will  undertake  the  management  of  the  girls  " — she  stopped 
and  blushed — "  out  of  their  ivo7'k-time.^^ 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  91 

At  this  extraordinary  announcement  the  two  girls  looked 
blankly  at  their  employer. 

"  You  do  not  quite  understand,"  Angela  went  on,  "  Wait  a 
little.     Do  you  consent,  RebeLah  ?" 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  and  her  cheeks  became  aflame.  Then 
she  thought  of  the  sudden  promotion  of  Joseph,  and  she  took 
confidence.  Perhaps  she  really  was  equal  to  the  place ;  per- 
haps she  had  actually  merited  the  distinction. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  Miss  Kennedy  went  on,  as  if  it  were  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  a  humble  work-woman 
should  be  suddenly  raised  to  the  proud  post  of  manager.  "  Very 
well ;  that  is  settled.  You,  Nelly,  will  try  to  take  care  of  the 
workroom  when  Rebekah  is  not  there.  As  regards  the  ac- 
counts— " 

"  I  can  keep  them,  too,"  said  Rebekah.  "  I  shall  work — on 
Sundays,"  she  added,  with  a  blush. 

.    Miss  Kennedy  then  proceeded  to  expound  her  views  as  re- 
gards the  management  of  her  establishment. 

"  The  girls  will  be  here  at  nine,"  she  said. 

Rebekah  nodded.     There  could  be  no  objection  to  that. 

"They  will  work  from  nine  till  eleven."  Rebekah  started, 
"Yes,  I  know  what  I  mean.  The  long  hours  of  sitting  and 
bending  the  back  over  work  are  just  as  bad  a  thing  for  girls  of 
fifteen  or  so  as  could  be  invented.  At  eleven,  therefore,  we  will 
have,  all  of  us,  half  an  hour's  exercise." 

Exercise?  Exercise  in  a  dressmaker's  shop?  Was  Miss  Ken- 
nedy in  her  senses  I 

"  Exercise.  You  see  that  asphalt.  Surely  some  of  you  can 
guess  what  it  is  for  ?"     She  looked  at  Harry. 

"  Skittles  ?"  he  suggested,  frivolously. 

"  No.     Lawn-tennis.     Well !  why  not  ?" 

"  What  is  lawn-tennis  ?"  asked  Nelly. 

"  A  game,  my  dear  ;  and  you  shall  learn  it." 

"  I  never  play  games,"  said  Rebekah.  "  A  serious  person  has 
no  room  in  her  life  for  games." 

"  Then  call  it  exercise,  and  you  will  be  able  to  play  it  without 
wounding  your  conscience."  This  was  Harry's  remark.  "  Why 
not,  indeed,  Miss  Kennedy  ?  The  game  of  lawn-tennis,  Nelly," 
he  went  on  to  explain,  "  is  greatly  in  vogue  among  the  bloated 
aristocracy,  as  my  cousin  Dick  will  tell  you.  That  it  shouH 
5 


98  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  ^ 

descend  to  you  and  me  and  the  likes  of  us  is  nothing  less  than 
a  social  revolution." 

Nelly  smiled,  but  she  only  half  understood  this  kind  of  lan- 
guage. A  man  who  laughed  at  things,  and  talked  of  things  as 
if  they  were  meant  to  be  laughed  over,  was  a  creature  she  had 
never  before  met  with.  My  friends,  lay  this  to  heart,  and  pon- 
der. It  is  not  until  a  certain  standard  of  cultivation  is  reached 
that  people  do  laugh  at  things.  They  only  began  in  the  last 
century,  and  then  only  in  a  few  salons.  When  all  the  world 
laughs,  the  perfection  of  humanity  will  have  been  reached,  and 
the  comedy  will  have  been  played  out. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  game,"  said  Angela,  meaning  lawn-tennis, 
not  the  Comedy  of  Humanity.  "  It  requires  a  great  deal  of 
skill  and  exercises  a  vast  quantity  of  muscles ;  and  it  costs  noth- 
ing. Asphalt  makes  a  perfect  court,  as  I  know  very  well."  She 
blushed,  because  she  was  thinking  of  the  Newnham  courts. 
"  We  shall  be  able  to  play  there,  whenever  it  does  not  rain. 
When  it  does,  there  is  the  glass  house." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  in  the  glass  house  V  asked  Harry ; 
"throw  stones  at  other  people's  windows?  That  is  said  to  be 
very  good  exercise." 

"  I  am  going  to  set  up  a  gymnasium  for  the  girls." 

Rebekah  stared,  but  said  nothing.  This  was  revolutionary, 
indeed. 

"  If  they  please,  the  girls  can  bring  their  friends ;  we  will  have 
a  course  of  gymnastics  as  well  as  a  school  for  lawn-tennis.  You 
see,  Mr.  Goslett,  that  I  have  not  forgotten  what  you  said  once." 

"  What  was  that.  Miss  Kennedy  ?  It  is  very  good  of  you  to 
remember  anything  that  I  have  said.  Do  you  mean  that  I  once, 
accidentally,  said  a  thing  worth  hearing  ?" 

*'  Yes ;  you  said  that  money  was  not  wanted  here  so  much  as 
work.  That  is  what  I  remembered.  If  you  can  afford  it,  you 
may  work  with  us,  for  there  is  a  great  deal  to  do." 

"  I  can  afford  it  for  a  time." 

*'  We  shall  work  again  from  half-past  eleven  until  one.  Then 
we  shall  stop  for  dinner." 

"They  bring  their  own  dinner,"  said  Rebekah.  "It  takes 
them  five  minutes  to  eat  it.     You  will  have  to  give  them  tea." 

"  No ;  I  shall  give  them  dinner  too.  And  because  growing 
girls  are  dainty  and  sometimes  cannot  fancy  things,  I  think  a 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  99 

good  way  will  be  for  each  of  them,  even  the  youngest,  to  take 
turns  in  ordering  the  dinner  and  seeing  it  prepared," 

Rebckah  groaned.  What  profits  could  stand  up  against  such 
lavish  expenditure  as  this  ?  "  After  an  hour  for  dinner  we  shall 
go  to  work  again.  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  the  after- 
noon, which  is  the  most  tedious  part  of  the  day,  and  I  think  the 
best  thing  will  be  to  have  reading  aloud." 

"  Who  is  to  read?"  cried  Rebekah. 

"  We  shall  find  somebody  or  other.  Tea  at  five,  and  work 
from  six  to  seven.     That  is  ray  programme." 

"  Then,  Miss  Kennedy,"  cried  her  forewoman,  "  you  will  be  a 
ruined  woman  in  a  year." 

"  No  " — she  shook  her  head  with  her  gracious  smile — "  no,  I 
hope  not.  And  I  think  you  will  find  that  we  shall  be  very  far 
from  ruined.     Have  a  little  faith.     What  do  you  think,  Nelly  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  it  beautiful !"  she  replied,  with  a  gaze  of  soft 
worship  in  her  limpid  eyes.  "It  is  so  beautiful  that  it  must  be 
a  dream,  and  cannot  last." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Goslett «" 

"  I  say  that  cabinet-making  ought  to  be  conducted  in  the  same 
liberal  spirit.     But  I'm  afraid  it  won't  pay." 

Then  Miss  Kennedy  took  them  to  the  room  on  the  first  floor. 
The  room  at  the  back  was  fitted  as  a  dining-room,  quite  simply, 
with  a  dozen  chairs  and  a  long  table.  Plates,  cups,  and  things 
were  ranged  upon  shelves  as  if  in  a  kitchen. 

She  led  them  to  the  front  room.  When  her  hand  was  on  the 
lock  she  turned  and  smiled,  and  held  up  her  finger  as  if  to  pre- 
pare them  for  a  surprise. 

The  floor  was  painted  and  bare  of  carpet ;  the  windows  were 
dressed  with  pretty  curtains.  There  were  sconces  on  the  walls 
for  candles ;  in  the  recess  stood  her  piano  ;  and  for  chairs  there 
were  two  or  three  rout  seats  ranged  along  the  wall. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  asked  Rebekah. 

"  My  dear,  girls  want  play  as  well  as  work.  The  more  inno- 
cent play  they  get,  the  better  for  them.  This  is  a  room  where 
we  shall  play  all  sorts  of  things :  sometimes  we  shall  dance ; 
sometimes  we  shall  act ;  sometimes  we  shall  sing ;  sometimes 
we  shall  read  poetry  or  tales  ;  sometimes  we  shall  romp ;  the 
girls  shall  bring  their  friends  here  as  Avell  as  to  the  gymnasium 
and  the  lawn-tennis,  if  they  please." 


100  ALL    80ETS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN. 

♦'  And  who  is  to  pay  for  all  this  ?"  asked  Rebekah. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Angela,  coloring,  because  this  was  a  crisis, 
and  to  be  suspected  at  such  a  point  would  have  been  fatal — "  my 
friends,  I  have  to  make  a  confession  to  you.  I  have  worked  out 
the  design  by  myself.  I  saw  how  the  girls  in  our  workshops 
toil  for  long  hours  and  little  pay.  The  great  shops,  whose  part- 
ners are  very  rich  men,  treat  them  no  better  than  do  the  poor 
traders  whose  living  has  to  be  got  by  scraping  it  off  their  wages. 
Now,  I  thought  that  if  we  were  to  start  a  shop  in  which  there 
was  to  be  no  mistress,  but  to  be  self-governed,  and  to  share  the 
proceeds  among  all  in  due  order  and  with  regard  to  skill  and  in- 
dustry, we  might  adjust  our  own  hours  for  the  general  good. 
This  kind  of  shop  has  been  tried  by  men,  but  I  think  it  has 
never  succeeded,  because  they  wanted  the  capital  to  start  it  with. 
What  could  we  three  girls  have  done  with  nothing  but  our  own 
hands  to  help  us  ?  So  I  wrote  to  a  young  lady  who  has  much 
money.  Yes,  Mr.  Goslett,  I  wrote  to  that  Miss  Messenger  of 
whom  we  have  so  often  talked." 

"Miss  Messenger!"  Rebekah  gasped — "she  who  owns  the 
great  brewery  ?" 

"  The  same.  She  has  taken  up  our  cause.  It  is  she  who  finds 
the  funds  to  start  us,  just  as  well  as  if  we  had  capital.  She  gives 
us  the  rent  for  a  year,  the  furniture,  the  glass  house — everything, 
even  this  piano.  I  have  a  letter  from  her  in  ray  pocket."  She 
took  it  out  and  read  it:  "Miss  Messenger  begs  to  thank  Miss 
Kennedy  for  her  report  of  the  progress  made  in  her  scheme. 
She  quite  approves  of  the  engagements  made,  particularly  those 
of  Rebekah  Hermitage  and  Nelly  Sorensen.  She  hopes,  before 
long,  to  visit  the  house  herself  and  make  their  acquaintance. 
Meanwhile,  she  will  employ  the  house  for  all  such  things  as  she 
requires,  and  begs  Miss  Kennedy  to  convey  to  Miss  Hermitage 
the  first  order  for  the  workshop."  This  gracious  letter  was  ac- 
companied by  a  long  list  of  things,  at  sight  of  which  the  fore- 
woman's eyes  glittered  with  joy. 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  splendid  order  !"  she  said.  "  May  we  tell  every- 
body about  this  Miss  Messenger  ?" 

"I  think,"  Angela  replied,  considering  carefully,  "that  it 
would  be  better  not.  Let  people  only  know  that  we  have  started, 
that  we  are  a  body  of  work-women  governing  ourselves  and 
working  for  ourselves.    The  rest  is  for  our  private  information." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  101 

"  While  you  arc  about  it,"  said  Harry,  "  you  might  persuade 
Miss  Messenger  to  start  the  Palace  of  Delight  and  the  College 
of  Art." 

"  Do  you  think  she  would  ?"  asked  Angela.  "  Do  you  really 
think  it  would  be  of  any  use  at  all  ?" 

"  Did  she  haggle  about  your  Co-operative  Association  ?" 

"  No,  not  at  all.  She  quite  agreed  with  me  from  the  begin- 
ning." 

"Then  try  her  for  the  Palace.  See,  Miss  Kennedy" — the 
young  man  had  become  quite  earnest  and  eager  over  the  Palace 
— "it  is  only  a  question  of  money.  If  Miss  Messenger  wants 
to  do  a  thing  unparalleled  among  the  deeds  of  rich  men,  let  her 
build  the  Palace  of  Delight.  If  I  were  she,  I  should  tremble  for 
fear  some  other  person  with  money  got  to  hear  of  the  idea,  and 
should  step  in  before  me.  Of  course,  the  grand  thing  in  these 
cases  is  to  be  the  first." 

"  What  is  a  Palace  of  Delight  ?"  asked  Nelly. 

"  Truly  wonderful  it  is,"  said  Harry,  "  to  think  how  monoto- 
nous are  the  gifts  and  bequests  of  rich  men.  Schools,  churches, 
almshouses,  hospitals  —  that  is  all ;  that  is  their  monotonous 
round.  Now  and  again,  a  man  like  Peabody  remembers  that 
men  want  houses  to  live  in,  not  hovels ;  or  a  good  woman  re- 
members that  they  want  sound  and  wholesome  food,  and  builds 
a  market ;  but,  as  a  rule,  schools,  churches,  almshouses,  hospitals. 
Look  at  the  lack  of  originality.  Miss  Kennedy,  go  and  see  this 
rich  person ;  ask  her  if  she  wants  to  do  the  grandest  thing  ever 
done  for  men ;  ask  her  if  she  will,  as  a  new  and  startling  point 
of  departure,  remember  that  men  want  joy.  If  she  will  ask  me, 
I  will  deliver  a  lecture  on  the  necessity  of  pleasure,  the  desira- 
bleness of  pleasure,  the  beauty  of  pleasure." 

"  A  Palace  of  Delight  1"  Rcbekah  shook  her  head.  "  Do  you 
know  that  half  the  people  never  go  to  church  ?" 

"  When  we  have  got  the  Palace,"  said  Harry,  "  they  will  go 
to  church,  because  religion  is  a  plant  that  flourishes  best  where 
life  is  happiest.  It  will  spring  up  among  us,  then,  as  luxuriantly 
as  the  wild  honeysuckle.  Who  are  the  most  religious  people  in 
the  world.  Miss  Hermitage  ?" 

"  They  are  the  worshippers  in  Red  Man's  Lane,  and  they  are 
called  the  Seventh-day  Independents." 

The  worst  of  the  Socratic  method  of  argument  is  that,  when 


102  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

the  wrong  answer  is  given,  the  whole  thing  comes  to  grief. 
Now,  Harry  wanted  her  to  say  that  the  people  who  go  most  to 
church  are  the  wealthy  classes.  Eebekah  did  not  say  so,  be- 
cause she  knew  nothing  of  the  wealthy  classes ;  and  in  her  own 
circle  of  sectarian  enthusiasts  nobody  had  any  money  at  all. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    GREAT    DAVENANT    CASE. 


"  Oh,  you  obstinate  old  man  !     Oh,  you  lazy  old  man !" 

It  was  the  high-pitched  voice  of  her  ladyship  in  reediest  tones, 
and  the  time  was  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  when,  as  a  rule, 
she  was  engaged  in  some  needlework  for  herself,  or  assisting 
Mrs.  Bormalack  with  the  pudding,  in  a  friendly  way,  while  her 
husband  continued  the  statement  of  the  case,  left  alone  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  sitting-room — and  his  title. 

'*  You  lazy  old  man  !" 

The  words  were  overheard  by  Harry  Goslett.  He  had  been 
working  at  his  miraculous  cabinet,  and  was  now,  following  the 
example  of  Miss  Kennedy's  work-girls,  "  knocking  off  "  for  half 
an  hour,  and  thinking  of  some  excuse  for  passing  the  rest  of 
the  morning  with  that  young  lady.  He  stood  in  the  doorway, 
looking  across  the  Greeii  to  the  sacred  windows  of  the  Dress- 
makers' Association.  Behind  them  at  this  moment  was  sitting, 
he  knew,  the  Queen  of  the  Mystery,  with  that  most  beauteous 
nymph,  the  matchless  Nelly,  fair  and  lovely  to  look  upon ;  and 
with  her,  too,  Rebekah  the  downright,  herself  a  mystery,  and 
half  a  dozen  more,  some  of  them,  perhaps,  beautiful.  Alas !  in 
working  hours  these  doors  were  closed.  Perhaps,  he  thought, 
when  the  cabinet  was  finished  he  might  make  some  play  by 
carrying  it  backwards  and  forwards,  measuring,  fitting,  altering. 

"  You  lazy,  sinful,  sleepy  old  man  !" 

A  voice  was  heard  feebly  remonstrating. 

"  Oh !  oh !  oh !"  she  cried  again  in  accents  that  rose  higher 
and  higher,  "we  have  come  all  the  way  from  America  to  prove 
our  case.  There's  four  months  gone  out  of  six — oh  !  oh  ! — and 
you  with  your  feet  upon  a  chair — oh  !  oh ! — do  you  think  you 
are  back  in  Canaan  City  ?" 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  103 

"Clara  Martha,"  replied  his  lordship,  in  clear  and  distinct 
tones — the  window  was  wide  open,  so  that  the  words  floated  out 
upon  the  summer  air  and  struck  gently  upon  Harry's  ear — 
"  Clara  Martha,  I  wish  I  was — it  is  now  holiday  time,  and  the 
boys  are  out  in  the  woods.  And  the  schoolroom  " — he  stopped, 
sighed  deeply,  and  yawned — "  it  was  very  peaceful." 

She  groaned  in  sheer  despair. 

"  He's  hut  a  carpenter,"  she  said ;  "  he  grovels  in  the  shav- 
ings ;  he  wallows  in  the  sawdust.  Fie  upon  him  !  This  man  a 
British  peer  ?  Oh !  shame — shame  !"  Harry  pictured  the  quiv- 
ering shoulders  and  the  finger  of  reproach.  "  Oh !  oh  1  He  is 
not  worthy  to  wear  a  coronet.  Give  him  a  chunk  of  wood  to 
whittle,  and  a  knife,  and  a  chair  in  the  shade,  and  somethin'  to 
rest  his  feet  upon.  That's  all  he  wants,  though  Queen  Victoria 
and  all  the  angels  was  callin'  for  him  across  the  ocean  to  take  his 
seat  in  the  House  of  Lords.    Shame  on  him !    Shame  upon  him  !" 

These  taunts,  apparently,  had  no  effect.  His  lordship  was 
understood  by  the  listener  to  say  something  disrespectful  of  the 
Tipper  House,  and  to  express  regret  at  having  exchanged  his 
humble  but  contented  position  of  school-teacher  and  his  break- 
fasts, where  a  man  could  look  around  him  and  see  hot  rolls  and 
muffins  and  huckleberry-pies,  for  the  splendor  of  a  title,  with 
the  meagre  fare  of  London  and  the  hard  work  of  drawing  up  a 
case. 

"  I  will  rouse  him !"  she  cried,  as  she  executed  some  move- 
ment, the  nature  of  which  could  only  be  guessed  by  the  young 
man  outside.  The  windows,  it  is  true,  were  open,  but  one's 
eyes  cannot  go  outside  to  look  in  without  the  rest  of  the  head 
and  the  body  going  to.  Whatever  it  was  that  she  did,  his  lord- 
ship apparently  sprang  into  the  air  with  a  loud  cry,  and,  if 
sounds  mean  anything,  ran  hastily  round  the  table,  followed  by 
his  illustrious  consort. 

The  listener  says  and  always  maintains — "  Hairpin."  Those 
who  consider  her  ladyship  incapable  of  behavior  which  might 
appear  undignified  reject  that  interpretation.  Moral,  not  phys- 
ical, were,  according  to  these  thinkers,  the  means  of  awakening 
adopted  by  Lady  Davenant.  Even  the  officers  of  the  Salvation 
Army,  they  say,  do  not  use  hairpins. 

"  In  the  name  of  common  humanity,"  said  Harry  to  himself, 
"one  must  interfere."  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  allowed 
H 


104  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

time  for  the  restoration  of  dignity  and  the  smoothing  of  ruffled 
plumes. 

He  found  his  lordship  seated,  it  is  true,  but  in  tlie  wrong  chair , 
and  his  whole  frame  was  trembling  with  excitement,  terror,  or 
some  other  strong  emotion,  while  the  eflEort  he  was  making  to 
appear  calm  and  composed  caused  his  head  to  nod  and  his 
cheeks  to  shake.  Never  was  a  member  of  the  Upper  House 
placed  in  a  more  uncomfortable  position.  As  for  her  ladyship, 
she  was  standing  bolt-upright  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  at 
the  window.  There  was  a  gleam  in  her  eye  and  a  quivering  of 
her  lip  which  betokened  wrath. 

"  Pardon  me,  Lady  Davenant,"  said  Harry,  smiling  sweetJy. 
"  May  I  interrupt  you  for  a  few  moments?" 

"  You  may,"  replied  her  husband,  speaking  for  her.  "Go  on, 
Mr.  Goslett.  Do  not  hurry  yourself,  pray.  We  are  glad  to  see 
you  " — he  cleared  his  throat — "  very  glad,  indeed." 

"  I  came  to  say,"  he  went  on,  still  addressing  the  lady,  "  that 
I  am  a  comparatively  idle  man  ;  that  is,  for  the  moment  I  have 
no  work,  and  am  undecided  about  my  movements,  and  that,  if  I 
can  be  of  any  help  in  the  preparation  of  the  case,  you  may  com- 
mand my  service.  Of  course.  Lady  Davenant,  everybody  knows 
the  importance  of  your  labors  and  of  his  lordship's,  and  the  ne- 
cessity for  a  clear  statement  of  your  case." 

Lady  Davenant  replied  with  a  cry  like  a  sea-gull's.  "  Oh  !  his 
lordship's  labors,  indeed  !  Yes,  Mr.  Goslett,  pretty  labors !  Day 
after  day  goes  on — I  don't  care,  Timothy — I  don't  care  who 
knows  it — day  after  day  goes  on,  and  we  get  no  further.  Four 
months  and  two  weeks  gone  of  the  time,  and  the  case  not  even 
written  out  yet."  ■. 

"  What  time  ?"  asked  Harry. 

"  The  time  that  Nephew  Nathaniel  gave  us  to  prove  our  claim. 
He  found  the  money  for  our  passage :  he  promised  us  six  dol- 
lars a  week  for  six  months.  In  six  months,  he  said,  we  should 
find  whether  our  claim  was  allowed  or  not.  There  it  was,  and 
we  were  welcome  for  six  months.  Only  six  weeks  left,  and  he 
goes  to  sleep !" 

"But,  Lady  Davenant — only  six  weeks!  It  is  impossible — ■ 
you  cannot  send  in  a  claim  and  get  it  acknowledged  in  six 
weeks.  Why,  such  claims  may  drag  on  for  years  before  a  com- 
mittee of  the  House  of  Lords."  ' 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN.  105 

*'  He  wastes  all  the  time :  he  has  got  no  ambition :  he  goes  to 
sleep  when  he  ought  to  be  waking.  If  we  have  to  go  home 
again,  with  nothing  done,  it  will  be  because  he  is  so  lazy. 
Shame  upon  you,  obstinate  old  man  !  Oh  !  lazy  and  sleepy  old 
man  !"  She  shook  her  finger  at  him  in  so  terrifying  a  manner 
that  he  was  fain  to  clutch  at  the  arms  of  the  chair,  and  his  teeth 
chattered. 

"Aurelia  Tucker,"  her  ladyship  went  on,  warming  to  her 
work  as  she  thought  of  her  wrongs — "  Aurelia  Tucker  always 
said  that,  lord  or  no  lord,  my  husband  was  too  lazy  to  stand  up 
for  his  rights.  Everybody  in  Canaan  City  knew  that  he  was 
too  lazy.  She  said  that  if  she  was  me,  and  trying  to  get  the 
family  title,  she  would  go  across  the  water  to  ask  for  it,  but 
she  would  make  the  American  minister  in  London  tell  the  Brit- 
ish government  that  they  would  just  have  to  grant  it,  whether 
they  liked  it  or  not,  and  that  a  plain  American  citizen  was  to 
take  his  place  in  their  House  of  Lords.  Otherwise,  she  said,  let 
the  minister  tell  their  Mr.  Gladstone  that  Canada  would  be  an- 
nexed. That's  fine  talkin',  but  as  for  me  I  want  things  done 
friendly,  an'  I  don't  want  to  see  my  husband  walkin'  into  his 
proper  place  in  Westminster  with  Stars  and  Stripes  flyin'  over 
his  head  and  a  volunteer  fire-brigade  band  playin' '  Hail,  Colum- 
bia,' before  him.  No.  I  said  that  justice  was  to  be  got  in  the 
old  country,  and  we  only  had  to  cross  over  and  ask  for  it.  Then 
Nephew  Nathaniel  said  that  he  didn't  expect  much  more  justice 
was  to  be  expected  in  England  than  in  New  Hampshire.  And 
that  what  you  can't  always  get  in  a  free  country  isn't  always  got 
where  there's  lords  and  bishops  and  a  queen.  But  we  might 
try,  if  we  liked,  for  six  months.  And  he  would  find  the  dollars 
for  that  time.  Now,  there's  only  six  weeks  left,  and  we  haven't 
even  begun  to  ask  for  that  justice." 

*'  Clara  Martha,"  said  his  lordship,  "  I've  been  thinking  the 
matter  over,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Aurelia  Tucker 
is  a  sensible  woman.  Let  us  go  home  again,  and  send  the  case 
to  the  minister.     Lojt,  us  frighten  them." 

"  It  does  not  seem  bad  advice,"  said  Harry.  "  Hold  a  meet- 
ing in  Canaan  City,  and  promise  the  British  Lion  that  he  shall 
be  whipped  into  a  cocked  hat  unless  you  get  your  rights.  Make 
a  national  thing  of  it." 

*'  No !"  She  stamped  her  foot,  and  became  really  terrible* 
5* 


106  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  We  are  here,  and  we  will  demand  our  rights  on  the  spot.  If 
the  minister  likes  to  take  up  the  case  he  may  ;  if  not,  wc  will 
fight  our  own  battles.  But  oh,  Mr.  Goslett,  it's  a  dreadful  hard 
thing  for  a  woman  and  a  stranger  to  do  all  the  fightin'  while  her 
husband  goes  to  sleep." 

"  Can't  you  keep  awake  till  you  have  stated  your  case  ?"  asked 
Harry.  "  Come,  old  boy,  you  can  take  it  out  in  slumber  after- 
wards ;  and  if  you  go  on  sleeping  till  the  case  is  decided,  I  ex- 
pect you  will  have  a  good,  long,  refreshing  rest." 

*'  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  Clara  Martha,"  his  lordship  ex- 
plained in  apology — "  quite  a  warm  morning.  I  didn't  know  peo- 
ple ever  had  such  warm  weather  in  England.  And  somehow  it 
reminded  me  of  Canaan  City  in  July.  When  I  think  of  Canaan, 
my  dear,  I  always  feel  sleepy.  There  was  a  garden,  Mr.  Goslett, 
and  trees  and  flowers,  at  the  back  of  the  schoolhouse.  And  a 
bee  came  in.  I  didn't  know  there  were  bees  in  England.  While 
I  listened  to  that  bee,  hummin'  around  most  the  same  as  if  he 
was  in  a  free  republic,  I  began  to  think  of  home,  Clara  Martha. 
That  is  all." 

"  Was  it  the  bee,"  she  asked,  with  asperity,  "  that  drew  your 
handkerchief  over  your  head  ?" 

"  Clara  Martha,"  he  replied,  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  the  bee 
was  a  stranger  to  me.  He  was  not  like  one  of  our  New  Hamp- 
shire bees.  He  had  never  seen  me  before.  Bees  sting  sti-an- 
gers." 

Harry  interrupted  what  promised  to  be  the  beginning  of  an- 
other lovers'  quarrel,  to  judge  by  the  twitchings  of  those  thin 
shoulders  and  the  frowning  of  those  bead-like  eyes. 

"  Lady  Davenant,"  he  said,  "  let  us  not  waste  the  time  in  re- 
crimination ;  accept  my  services.  Let  me  help  you  to  draw  up 
the  statement  of  your  case." 

This  was  something  to  the  purpose :  with  a  last  reproachful 
glance  upon  her  husband,  her  ladyship  collected  the  papers  and 
put  them  in  the  hands  of  her  new  assistant. 

"  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  "  it's  more'n  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Goslett. 
Here  are  all  the  papers.  Mind,  there  isn't  the  least  doubt  about 
it,  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt ;  there  never  was  a  claim  so  strong 
and  clear.  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant  is  as  much  Lord  Dave- 
nant by  right  of  lawful  descent,  as — as — vou  are  your  father's 
son." 


"  '  It  reminded  me  of  Canaan  City  in  July.' 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  '        107 

Harry  spent  the  morning  with  the  papers  spread  before  him, 
arranging  the  case.  Lord  Davenant,  now  undisturbed,  slept 
quietly  in  his  arm-chair.     Her  ladyship  left  them  alone. 

About  half -past  twelve  the  sleeping  claimant  awoke  and 
rubbed  his  eyes.  "  I  have  had  a  most  refreshing  slumber,  Mr. 
Goslett,"  he  yawned ;  "  a  man  who  is  married  wants  it.  Some- 
times it  is  what  we  shall  do  when  we  get  the  title  confirmed ; 
sometimes  it's  why  we  haven't  made  out  our  case  yet;  some- 
times it's  why  I  don't  go  and  see  the  queen  myself ;  some- 
times it  is  how  we  shall  crow  over  Aurelia  Tucker  when  we  are 
established  in  our  rights — but,  whatever  it  is,  it  is  never  a  quiet 
night.  I  think,  Mr.  Goslett,  that  if  she'd  only  hold  her  tongue 
and  go  to  sleep,  I  might  make  headway  with  that  case  in  the 
morning." 

"  It  seems  straightforward  enough,"  said  Harry.  "  I  can  draw 
up  the  thing  for  you  without  any  trouble.  And  then  you  must 
find  out  the  best  way  to  bring  your  claim  before  the  House  of 
Lords." 

"Put  it  into  the  post-oflSce,  addressed  to  the  queen,"  sug- 
gested the  claimant. 

"  No — not  quite  that,  I  think,"  said  Harry.  "  There's  only 
one  weak  point  in  the  case." 

*'  I  knew  you'd  find  out  the  weak  point.  She  won't  allow 
there's  any  weak  point  at  all.  Says  it's  clear  from  beginning  to 
end." 

"  So  it  is,  if  you  make  an  admission." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  that  admission  ?  Let  us  make  it  at  once, 
and  go  on.  Nothing  can  be  fairer ;  we  are  quite  prepared  to 
meet  you  half-way  with  that  admission." 

His  lordship  spoke  as  if  conferring  an  immense  advantage 
upon  an  imaginary  opponent. 

"  I  do  not  mind,"  he  said,  "  anybody  else  finding  out  the  weak 
point,  because  then  I  can  tackle  him.  What  vexes  me,  Mr.  Gos- 
lett, is  to  find  out  that  weak  point  myself.  Because  then  there 
is  nobody  to  argue  it  out  with,  and  it  is  like  cold  water  running 
down  the  back,  and  it  keeps  a  man  awake." 

"As  for  your  admission,"  said  Harry,  laughing. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Why,  of  course  you  have  to  admit,  unless  you  can  prove 
it,  that  this  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant,  wheelwright,  was  the 


108  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

Honorable  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant,  only  son  of  Lord  Dave- 

nant." 

His  lordship  was  silent  for  a  while. 

"  Do  you  think,  sir,  that  the  queen  will  see  this  weak  point  V 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  her  advisers  will." 

"  And  do  you  think — hush,  Mr.  Goslett,  let  us  whisper.  Do 
you  think  that  the  queen  will  refuse  to  give  us  the  title  because 
of  this  weak  point  ?  Hush !  she  may  be  outside."  He  meant 
his  wife,  not  her  majesty. 

•'^A  committee  of  the  House  of  Lords  most  undoubtedly  may 
refuse  to  consider  your  claim  proved." 

His  lordship  nodded  his  head  in  consideration  of  this  possi- 
bility.    Then  he  laughed  gently,  and  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  It  would  be  rough  at  first.  That  is  so,  for  certain,  sure. 
There  would  be  sleepless  nights.  And  Aurelia  Tucker  would 
laugh.  Clara  Martha  would  " — he  shuddered.  "  Wal,  if  we  hev 
to  go  home  without  our  title,  I  should  be  resigned.  When  a 
man  is  sixty  years  of  age,  sir,  and,  though  born  to  greatness,  not 
brought  up  accordin'  to  his  birth,  he  can't  always  feel  like  set- 
tin'  in  a  row  with  a  crown  upon  his  head  ;  and  though  I  wouldn't 
own  up  before  Clara  Martha,  I  doubt  whether  the  British  peers 
would  consider  my  company  quite  an  honor  to  the  Upper  House. 
Though  a  plain  citizen  of  the  United  States,  sir,  is  as  good  as 
any  lord  that  lives." 

"  Better,"  said  Harry.     "  He  is  much  better." 

"  He  is,  Mr.  Goslett,  he  is.  In  the  land  where  the  Bird  of 
Freedom — " 

"  Hush,  my  lord.  You  forget  that  you  are  a  British  peer. 
No  spread-eagle  for  you." 

Lord  Davenant  sighed. 

"  It  is  difficult,"  he  said, "  and  I  suppose  there's  no  more  loyal 
citizens  than  us  of  Canaan  City." 

"Well,  how  are  we  to  connect  this  Wheelwright  Timothy 
with  the  Honorable  Timothy  who  was  supposed  to  be  drowned  ?" 

"  There  is  his  age,  and  there  is  his  name.     You've  got  those, 
Mr.  Goslett.     And  then,  as  we  agreed  before,  we  will  agree  to  - 
that  little  admission." 

"  But  if  everybody  does  not  agree." 

"  There  is  also  the  fact  that  we  were  always  supposed  to  bo 
heirs  to  something  in  the  old  country." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  109 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  not  enougli.  There  is  this  great  diffi- 
culty. Why  slioukl  a  young  Englishman,  the  heir  to  a  title  and 
a  great  property,  settle  down  in  America  and  practise  a  handi- 
craft ?" 

"  Wal,  sir,  I  can't  rightly  say.  My  grandfather  carried  that  se- 
cret with  him.  And  if  you'll  oblige  mc,  sir,  you'll  tell  her  lady- 
ship that  we  are  agreed  upon  that  little  admission  which  makes 
the  connection  complete.  It  will  be  time  enough  to  undeceive 
her  when  the  trouble  comes.  As  for  Aurelia  Tucker,  why" — 
here  he  smiled  sweetly — "  if  I  know  Clara  Martha  aright,  she  is 
quite  able  to  tackle  Aurelia  by  herself," 

This  was  the  way  in  which  the  conduct  of  the  Great  Dave- 
nant  Case  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  mere  working-man. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE     FIRST     DAY, 


Angela's  genteel  place  of  business,  destined  as  it  was  to  greats 
ness,  came  into  the  world  with  little  pomp  and  no  pretence.  On 
the  day  appointed,  the  work-girls  came  at  nine,  and  found  a 
brass  plate  on  the  door  and  a  wire  T)lind  m  the  windows,  bear- 
ing the  announcement  that  this  was  the  "  Dressmakers'  Associa- 
tion." This  information  gave  them  no  curiosity,  and  produced 
no  excitement  in  their  minds.  To  them  it  seemed  nothing  but 
another  artifice  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  public  very  hard  to 
move.  They  were  quite  used  to  these  crafty  announcements ; 
they  were  cynically  incredulous  of  low  prices  ;  they  knew  the 
real  truth  as  to  fabrics  of  freshness  everlasting  and  stuffs  which 
would  never  wear  out ;  and  as  regards  forced  sales,  fabulous 
prices,  and  incredible  bargains,  they  merely  lifted  the  eyelid  of 
the  scoffer  and  went  into  the  workroom.  Whatever  was  writ- 
ten or  printed  on  bills  in  the  window,  no  difference  was  ever 
made  to  them.  Nor  did  the  rise  and  fall  of  markets  alter  their 
wages  one  penny.  This  lack  of  interest  in  the  success  of  their 
work  is  certainly  a  drawback  to  the  metier,  as  to  many  others. 
Would  it  not  be  well  if  workmen  of  all  kinds  were  directly  in- 
terested in  the  enterprise  for  which  they  hire  out  their  labor  ? 


110  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN. 

If  you  have  the  curiosity  to  listen  to  the  talk  of  work-girls  in 
the  evenings  when  they  walk  home,  or  as  they  journey  liome- 
wards  slowly  in  the  crawling  omnibus,  you  will  be  struck  by  a 
very  remarkable  phenomenon.  It  is  not  that  they  talk  without 
stopping,  because  that  is  common  to  youthful  woman  in  every 
rank.  It  is  that  in  the  evening  they  are  always  exasperated. 
They  snap  their  lips,  they  breathe  quick,  they  flash  their  eyes, 
they  clinch  their  fingers,  and  their  talk  is  a  narrative  of  indigna- 
tion full  of  "  sezee,"  "  sezi,"  and  "  seshee  " — mostly  the  last,  be- 
cause what  "  she  "  said  is  generally  the  cause  of  all  this  wrath. 
A  philosopher,  who  once  investigated  the  subject,  was  fortunate 
enough  to  discover  why  work-girls  are  always  angry  at  eventide. 
He  maintains  that  it  means  nothing  in  the  world  but  nagging ; 
they  all,  he  says,  sit  together  —  forewomen,  dressmakers,  im- 
provers, and  apprentices — in  one  room.  The  room,  whether 
large  or  small,  is  always  close,  the  hours  are  long ;  as  they  sit 
at  their  work,  head  bent,  back  bent,  feet  still,  they  gradually  get 
the  fidgets.  This  is  a  real  disease  while  it  lasts.  In  the  work- 
room it  has  got  to  last  until  the  time  to  knock  off.  First  it 
seizes  the  limbs,  so  that  the  younger  ones  want  to  get  up  and 
jump  and  dance,  while  the  elder  ones  would  like  to  kick.  If 
not  relieved,  the  patient  next  gets  the  fidgets  in  her  nerves,  so 
that  she  wriggles  in  her  chair,  gets  spasmodic  twitchings,  shakes 
her  head  violently,  and  bites  her  thread  with  viciousness.  The 
next  step  is  extreme  irritability ;  this  is  followed  by  a  disposi- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  forewoman  to  find  fault,  and  by  a  deter- 
mination on  the  part  of  the  work-girls  not  to  be  put  upon,  with 
an  intention  of  speaking  up  should  the  occasion  arise.  Then 
comes  nagging,  which  is,  in  fact,  nothing  but  fidgets  translated 
into  English  prose.  Some  forewomen  are  excellent  transla- 
tors. And  the  end  is  general  exasperation,  with  fines,  notices  to 
leave,  warnings,  cheekiness,  retorts,  accusations,  charges,  denials, 
tears,  fault-findings,  sneers,  angry  words,  bitter  things,  personal 
reflections,  innuendoes,  disrespect,  bullying,  and  every  element  of 
a  row  royal.  Consequently,  when  the  girls  go  home  they  are  ex- 
asperated. 

We  know  how  Angela  proposed  to  prevent  the  outbreak  of 
this  contagious  disorder  by  ventilation,  exercise,  and  frequent 
rests. 

She  took  her  place  among  the  girls,  and  worked  with  them, 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  Ill 

sitting  beside  Nelly  Sorensen,  who  was  to  have  charge  of 
the  workroom.  Rebekah,  with  Miss  Messenger's  magniticent 
order  on  her  mind,  sat  in  the  showroom  waiting  for  visitors. 
But  none  came  except  Mrs.  Bormalack,  accompanied  by  her 
ladyship,  who  stepped  over  to  offer  their  congratulations 
and  best  wishes,  and  to  see  what  Miss  Messenger  was  going  to 
have. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  first  two  hours'  pull  is  beginning 
to  be  felt  by  the  younger  hands,  Angela  invited  everybody  to 
rest  for  half  an  hour.  They  obeyed  with  some  surprise,  and  fol- 
lowed her  with  considerable  suspicion,  as  if  some  mean  advan- 
tage was  going  to  be  taken  of  them,  some  trick  "  sprung  "  upon 
them. 

She  took  them  into  a  kind  of  court,  which  had  been  the  back 
garden,  paved  with  asphalt  and  provided  with  nets,  racquets,  and 
all  the  gear  for  lawn-tennis.  She  invited  them  to  play  foir  half 
an  hour.  It  was  a  tine  morning  in  early  September,  with  a 
warm  sun,  a  bright  sky,  and  a  cool  breeze — the  very  day  for 
lawn-tennis.  The  girls,  however,  looked  at  the  machinery  and 
then  at  cacli  other,  and  showed  po  inclination  for  the  game. 
Then  Angela  led  the  way  into  the  great  glass  room,  where  she 
pointed  out  the  various  bars,  ropes,  and  posts  which  she  had 
provided  for  their  gymnastic  exercises.  They  looked  at  each 
other  again,  and  showed  a  disposition  to  giggle. 

There  were  seven  girls  in  all,  not  counting  Rebekah,  who  re- 
mained in  the  showroom ;  and  Nelly,  who  was  a  little  older 
than  the  rest,  stood  rather  apart.  The  girls  were  not  unhealthy- 
looking,  being  all  quite  young,  and  therefore  not  as  yet  ruined 
as  to  the  complexion  by  gas  and  bad  air.  But  they  looked  de- 
jected, as  if  their  work  had  no  charms  for  them^ndeed,  one 
can  hardly  imagine  that  it  had ;  they  were  only  surprised,  not 
elated,  at  the  half-hour's  recreation  ;  they  expected  that  it  Avould 
be  deducted  from  their  wages,  and  were  resentful. 

Then  Angela  made  them  a  speech.  She  said,  handling  a 
racquet  to  give  herself  confidence,  that  it  was  highly  necessary  to 
take  plenty  of  exercise  in  the  open  air ;  that  she  was  sure  work 
would  be  better  done,  and  more  quickly  done,  if  the  fingers  did 
not  get  too  tired ;  therefore,  that  she  had  had  this  tennis-court 
prepared  for  them  and  the  gymnasium  fitted  up,  so  that  they 
might  play  in  it  every  day.     And  then  selecting  Nelly  and  two 


112  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

others,  who  seemed  active  young  creatures,  she  gave  them  their 
first  lessons  in  lawn-tennis. 

The  next  day  she  gave  a  lesson  to  another  set.  In  a  few 
days  tennis  became  a  passion  with  the  girls.  The  fashion 
spread.  Lawn-tennis  is  not  an  expensive  game ;  shortly  there 
will  be  no  bit  of  square  garden  or  vacant  space  in  Stepney  but 
will  be  marked  out  into  its  lawn-tennis  courts. 

The  gymnasium  took  longer  to  become  popular.  Girls  do 
not  like  feats  of  strength ;  nor  was  it  until  the  spell  of  wet 
weather  last  October,  when  out-door  games  became  impossible, 
that  the  gymnasium  began  to  attract  at  all.  Then  a  spirit  of 
emulation  was  set  up,  and  bodily  exercises  became  popular. 
After  becoming  quite  sure  that  no  deduction  was  made  on  ac- 
count of  the  resting-time,  the  girls  ceased  to  be  suspicious,  and 
accepted  the  gift  with  something  like  enthusiasm.  Yet  Miss 
Kennedy  was  their  employer :  therefore,  a  natural  enemy ;  there- 
fore, gifts  from  her  continued,  for  some  time,  to  be  received 
with  doubt  and  suspicion.  This  does  not  seem,  on  the  whole,  a 
healthy  outcome  of  our  social  system ;  yet  such  an  attitude  is 
unfortunately  common  among^  work-girls. 

At  half-past  eleven  they  all  resumed  work. 

At  one  o'clock  another  astonishment  awaited  them. 

Miss  Kennedy  informed  them  that  one  of  the  reforms  intro- 
duced by  her  was  the  providing  of  dinner  every  day,  without, 
deducting  anything  from  the  wages.  Those  to  whom  dinner 
was,  on  most  days,  the  mockery  of  a  piece  of  bread-and-butter, 
or  a  bun,  or  some  such  figment  and  pretence  of  a  meal,  simply 
gasped,  and  the  stoutest  held  her  breath  for  a  while,  wondering 
what  these  things  might  mean. 

Yes,  there  was  dinner  laid  for  them  up-stairs,  on  a  fair  white 
cloth ;  for  every  girl  a  plentiful  dish  of  beef  with  potatoes  and 
other  good  things,  and  a  glass  of  Messenger's  Family  Ale — that 
at  eight-and-six  the  nine-gallon  cask — and  bread  a  discretion. 
Angela  would  have  added  pudding,  but  was  dissuaded  by  her 
forewoman,  on  the  ground  that  not  only  would  pudding  swallow 
up  too  much  of  the  profits,  but  that  it  would  demoralize  the 
girls.  As  it  was,  one  of  them,  at  the  mere  aspect  and  first  con- 
templation of  the  beef,  fell  a-weeping.  She  was  lame,  and  she 
was  the  most  dejected  among  them  all.  Why  she  wept,  and 
how  Angela  followed  her  home,  and  what  that  home  was  like, 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  113 

and  why  she  and  her  mother  and  her  sisters  do  now  continually 
praise  and  pray  for  Angela,  belong  to  another  story,  concerned 
with  the  wretchedness  and  misery  which  are  found  at  White- 
chapel  and  Stepney,  as  well  as  in  Soho  and  Marylebone  and  the 
back  of  Regent  Street.  I  shall  not  write  many  chapters  of  that 
story,  for  my  own  part. 

Truly  a  most  wonderful  workshop !  Was  ever  such  an  asso- 
ciation of  dressmakers  ? 

Aft<ir  dinner  they  frolicked  and  romped,  though  as  yet  in  an 
untaught  way,  until  two,  when  they  began  to  work  again. 

Miss  Kennedy  then  made  them  another  speech. 

She  told  them  that  the  success  of  their  enterprise  depended 
in  great  measure  upon  their  own  industry,  skill,  and  energy ; 
that  they  were  all  interested  in  it,  because  they  were  to  receive, 
besides  their  wages,  a  share  in  the  profits  :  this  they  only  partly 
understood.  Nor  did  they  comprehend  her  scheme  much  more 
when  she  went  on  to  explain  that  they  had  the  house  and  all  the 
preliminary  furniture  found  for  them,  so  that  there  would  be 
nothing,  at  first,  to  pay  for  rent.  They  had  never  considered 
the  question  of  rent,  and  the  thir^g  did  not  go  home  to  them. 
But  they  saw  in  some  vague  way  that  here  was  an  employer  of 
a  kind  very  much  unlike  any  they  had  ever  before  experienced, 
and  they  were  astonished  and  excited. 

Later  on,  when  they  might  be  getting  tired  again,  they  had  a 
visitor.  It  was  no  other  than  Captain  Sorensen.  He  said  that 
by  permission  of  Miss  Kennedy  he  would  read  to  them  for  an 
hour,  and  that,  if  she  permitted  and  they  liked,  as  he  was  an  old 
man  with  nothing  to  do,  he  would  come  and  read  to  them  often. 

So  this  astonishing  day  passed. 

They  had  tea  at  five,  with  another  half-hour's  rest.  As  the 
evening  was  so  fine,  it  was  served  in  the  garden. 

At  seven  they  found  that  it  was  time  to  strike  work — an  hour 
at  least  earlier  than  any  other  house.  W^hat  could  these  things 
mean  ? 

And  then  fresh  marvels.  For,  when  the  work  was  put  away. 
Miss  Kennedy  invited  them  all  to  follow  her  up-stairs.  There 
she  formally  presented  them  with  a  room  for  their  own  use  in 
the  evening  if  they  pleased.  There  was  a  piano  in  it ;  but,  un- 
fortunately, nobody  could  play.  The  floor  was  polished  for 
dancing,  but  then  no  one  could  dance ;  and  there  was  a  table 


114  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

with  games  upon  it,  and  magazines  and  illustrated  papers.  In 
tliis  room,  Miss  Kennedy  told  them,  they  could  sing,  dance,  play, 
read,  talk,  sit,  or  do  anything  else  in  reason,  and  within  the 
limits  of  modest  recreation.  They  might  also,  on  Saturday 
evenings,  bring  their  friends,  brothers,  and  so  forth,  who  would 
also  be  expected  to  behave  within  the  limits  of  modesty  and 
good-breeding.  In  short,  the  place  was  to  be  a  drawing-room, 
and  Angela  proposed  to  train  the  girls  by  example  and  precept 
into  a  proper  feeling  as  regards  the  use  of  a  drawing-room. 
There  was  to  be  no  giggling,  no  whispering  in  corners,  nor  was 
there  to  be  any  horse-play.  Good  manners  lie  between  horse- 
play on  the  one  hand,  and  giggling  on  the  other. 

The  kind  of  evening  proposed  by  their  wonderful  mistress 
struck  the  girls  at  first  with  a  kind  of  stupefaction.  Outside, 
the  windows  being  open,  they  could  hear  the  steps  of  those  who 
walked,  talked,  and  laughed  on  Stepney  Green.  They  would 
have  preferred  to  be  among  that  throng  of  idle  promenaders; 
it  seemed  to  them  a  more  beautiful  thing  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  paths  than  to  sit  about  in  a  room  and  be  told  to  play. 
There  were  no  young  men.  There  was  the  continual  presence 
of  their  employer:  they  were  afraid  of  her.  There  was  also 
Miss  Hermitage,  of  whom  also  they  were  afraid.  There  was,  in 
addition,  Miss  Sorensen,  of  whom  they  might  learn  to  be  afraid. 
As  for  Miss  Kennedy,  they  were  the  more  afraid  of  her  because 
not  only  did  she  walk,  talk,  and  look  like  a  person  out  of  an- 
other world,  but,  oh  !  wonderful !  she  knew  nothing — evidently 
nothing — of  their  little  tricks.  Naturally  one  is  afraid  of  a  per- 
son who  knows  nothing  of  one's  wicked  ways.  This  is  the  awk- 
wardness in  entertaining  angels.  They  naturally  assume  that 
their  entertainers  stand  on  the  same  elevated  level  as  them- 
selves :  this  causes  embarrassment.  Most  of  us,  like  Angela's 
shop-girls,  would,  under  the  circumstances,  betray  a  tendency  to 
giggle. 

Then  she  tried  to  relieve  them  from  their  awkwardness  by 
sitting  down  to  the  piano  and  playing  a  lively  galop. 

"  Dance,  girls  !"  she  cried. 

In  their  early  childhood,  before  they  went  to  school  or  work- 
shop, the  girls  had  been  accustomed  to  a  good  deal  of  dancing. 
Their  ballroom  was  the  street ;  their  floor  was  the  curb-stone ; 
their  partners  had  been  other  little  girls ;  their  music  the  organ- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  115 

grinder's.  They  danced  with  no  steps,  save  such  as  came  by 
nature ;  but  their  little  feet  struck  true  and  kept  good  time. 
Now  they  were  out  of  practice ;  they  were  grown  big,  too ; 
they  could  no  longer  seize  each  other  by  the  waist  and  caper 
round  and  round.  Yet  the  music  was  inspiriting ;  eyes  bright- 
"ened,  their  heels  became  as  light  as  air.  Yet,  alas !  they  did 
not  know  the  steps, 

Angela  stopped  playing  and  looked  round  her.  The  girls 
were  crowded  together, 

Rebekah  Ilermitage  sat  apart  at  the  table.  There  was  that 
in  her  face  which  betokened  disap[)roval,  mingled  with  curiosity, 
for  she  had  never  seen  a  dance,  and  never,  except  on  a  barrel- 
organ,  heard  dance -music.  Nelly  Sorensen  stood  beside  the 
piano  watching  the  player  with  the  devotion  which  belongs  to 
the  disciple  who  loves  the  most.  Whatever  Miss  Kennedy  did 
was  right  and  sweet  and  beautiful.  Also,  whatever  she  did 
filled  poor  Nelly  with  a  sense  of  humiliation,  because  sbe  her- 
self felt  so  ignorant. 

"  Rebekah  !  Nelly  !"  cried  Angela.     "  Can  you  not  help  me  ?" 

Both  shook  their  heads. 

"  I  cannot  dance,"  said  Rebekah,  trying  to  show  a  little  scorn, 
or,  at  least,  some  disapprobation.  "  In  our  Connection  we  never 
dance." 

"  You  never  dance  ?"  Angela  forgot  for  the  moment  that 
she  was  in  Stepney,  and  among  a  class  of  girls  wlio  do  not 
dance.     "  Do  you  sing  ?" 

"  If  any  is  merry,"  replied  Rebekah,  "  let  him  sing  hymns." 

"  Nelly,  can  you  help  me  ?" 

She,  too,  shook  her  head.  But,  she  said,  her  father  could 
play  the  fiddle.     Might  he  come  ? 

Angela  begged  her  to  invite  him  immediately,  and,  on  her 
Way,  to  ask  Mr.  Goslett,  at  Mrs.  Bormalack's,  to  bring  his  fiddle 
too.     Between  them  they  would  teach  the  girls  to  dance. 

Then  she  sat  down  and  began  to  sing.  First  she  sang  "  By 
the  Banks  of  Allan  AVater,"  and  then  "  The  BailiflE's  Daughter 
of  Islington,"  and  next,  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes  " — 
sweet  and  simple  ditties  all.  Then  came  Captain  Sorensen, 
bearing  his  fiddle,  and  happy  to  help ;  and  while  he  played 
Angela  stood  all  the  girls  in  a  row  before  her,  headed  by  Nelly, 
and  gave  them  their  first  lesson  in  the  giddy  dance. 


110  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Then  came  Harry  Goslett ;  and  at  sight  of  his  cheerful  coun- 
tenance and  at  the  mere  beholding  how  he  bowed  to  Miss  Ken- 
nedy, and  asked  to  be  allowed,  and  put  his  arm  round  her  waist 
and  whirled  her  round  in  a  galop,  their  hearts  were  lifted  up, 
and  they  longed  no  more  for  Stepney  Green.  Then  he  changed 
Miss  Kennedy  for  Nelly ;  and,  though  she  was  awkward  at  first, 
she  soon  fell  into  the  step,  while  Miss  Kennedy  danced  with 
another ;  and  then  Mr.  Goslett  with  another,  and  so  on  till  all 
had  had  a  practical  lesson.  Then  they  ceased  altogether  to 
long  for  the  jest  of  the  gallant  'prentice ;  for  what  were  jests 
to  this  manly,  masterful  seizure  by  the  waist,  this  lifting  almost 
off  the  feet,  this  whirl  round  and  round  to  the  music  of  the 
fiddle  which  the  brave  old  captain  played  as  merrily  as  any 
bo's'n's  mate  or  quartermaster  on  an  East-Indiaman  ?  In  half 
an  hour  the  feet  of  all  but  one — the  one  who,  poor  girl,  was 
lame — felt  that  noble  sympathy  with  the  music  so  readily  caught 
by  those  intelligent  organs,  and  they  could  dance.  Perhaps  for 
the  first  time  in  the  annals  of  Stepney  her  daughters  had  learned 
to  dance. 

The  rest  would  be  easy.  They  tried  a  quadrille,  then  anotlier 
galop.  Harry  endeavored  to  do  his  duty,  but  there  were  some 
who  remarked  that  he  danced  twice  that  second  galop  with 
Nelly  Sorensen,  and  they  were  jealous.  Yet  it  was  only  an  un- 
conscious tribute  paid  to  beauty.  The  young  fellow  was  among 
a  bevy  of  dressmakers :  an  uncommon  position  for  a  man  of 
his  bringing-up.  One  of  them,  somehow,  was  to  all  appearance, 
and  to  any  but  perhaps  the  most  practised  eye,  a  real  genuine 
lady — not  a  copy  at  all ;  the  other  was  so  graceful  and  sweet 
that  she  seemed  to  want  but  a  touch  to  effect  the  transforma- 
tion. As  for  the  other  girls,  they  were  simple  young  persons 
of  the  workroom  and  counter — a  common  type.  So  common, 
alas !  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  the  individuality  of  each,  her 
personal  hopes,  and  her  infinite  possibilities.  Yet,  however  in- 
significant is  the  crowd,  the  individual  is  so  important. 

Then  he  was  interested  in  the  dark-eyed  girl  who  sat  by  her- 
self at  the  table,  looking  on  anxiously  at  an  amusement  she  had 
always  heard  of  as  "  soul-destroying."  She  was  wondering  why 
her  ears  were  pleased  with  the  playing,  and  why  her  brain  was 
filled  with  strange  images,  and  why  it  was  so  pleasant  to  watch 
the  girls  dancing,  their  eyes  aglow  and  their  cheeks  tlushed. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  117 

"  Do  not  tempt  me,"  she  said,  when  Harry  ventured  to  invite 
her,  too,  to  join  the  giddy  throng.  "  Do  not  tempt  me — no — 
go  away  !" 

Her  very  brusqueness  showed  how  strong  was  the  temptation. 
AVas  she,  already,  giving  way  at  the  first  temptation? 

Presently  the  evening  was  over,  the  girls  had  all  trooped 
noisily  out  of  the  house,  and  Angela,  Captain  Sorensen,  Nelly, 
and  the  young  workman  were  walking  across  the  Green  in  the 
direction  of  the  almshouse. 

When  Angela  got  home  to  the  boarding-house  the  dreariness 
of  the  evening  was  in  full  blast.  The  boarders  were  sitting  in 
silence,  each  wrapped  in  his  own  thoughts.  The  professor  lifted 
his  head  as  she  entered  the  room,  and  regarded  her  with  thought- 
ful eyes,  as  if  appraising  her  worth  as  a  clairvoyante.  David 
Fagg  scowled  horribly.  His  lordship  opened  his  mouth  as  if 
to  speak,  but  said  nothing.  Jklr.  Maliphant  took  his  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth,  and  began  a  story.  "I  remember,"  he  said,  "the 
last  time  but  one  that  he  was  ruined" — he  did  not  state  the 
name  of  the  gentleman  — "  the  whole  town  was  on  fire,  and 
his  house  with  them.  ^Tiat  did  he  do  ?  Mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  around,  and  bought  up  all  the  timber  for  twenty  miles 
around.  And  see  what  he's  worth  now !"  When  he  had  told 
this  story  he  relapsed  into  silence.  Angela  thought  of  that 
casual  collection  of  unsympathetic  animals  put  into  a  cage  and 
called  "Happy  Family." 


CHAPTER  XH. 

SUNDAY    AT    THE    EAST    END. 


Sunday  morning  in  and  about  the  Whitechapel  and  Mile  End 
roads,  Angela  discovered  to  be  a  time  of  peculiar  interest.  The 
closing  of  the  shops  adds  to  the  dignity  of  the  broad  thorough- 
fares, because  it  hides  so  many  disagreeable  and  even  humiliat- 
ing things.  But  it  by  no  means  puts  a  stop  to  traflBc,  which  is 
conducted  with  an  ostentatious  disregard  of  the  Fourth  Com- 
mandment or  Christian  custom.  At  one  end,  the  City  end,  is 
Houndsditch,  crowded  with  men  who  come  to  buy  and  sell ;  and 
while  the  bells  of  St.  Botolph  call  upon  the  faithful  with  a 


118  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

clanging  and  clashing  which  ring  like  a  cry  of  despair,  the  foot- 
path is  filled  with  the  busy  loungers,  who  have  long  since 
ceased  to  regard  the  invitation  as  having  anything  at  all  to  do 
with  them. 

Strange  and  wonderful  result  of  the  gathering  of  men  in  great 
cities !  It  is  not  a  French,  or  an  English,  or  a  German,  or  an 
American  result — it  is  universal;  in  every  great  city  of  the 
world,  below  a  certain  level,  there  is  no  religion — men  have 
grown  dead  to  their  higher  instincts ;  they  no  longer  feel  the 
possibilities  of  humanity;  faith  brings  to  them  no  more  the 
evidence  of  things  unseen.  They  are  crowded  together,  so  that 
they  have  ceased  to  feel  their  individuality.  The  crowd  is  eter- 
nal— they  are  part  of  that  eternity ;  if  one  drops  out,  he  is  not 
missed :  nobody  considers  that  it  will  be  his  own  turn  some  day 
to  drop  out.  Life  is  nothing  for  ever  and  ever  but  work  in  the 
week,  with  as  much  beer  and  tobacco  as  the  money  will  run  to, 
and  loafing  on  Sundays  with  more  beer  and  tobacco.  This,  my 
friends,  is  a  truly  astonishing  thing,  and  a  thing  unknown  until 
this  century.  Perhaps,  however,  in  ancient  Eome  the  people 
had  ceased  to  believe  in  their  gods;  perhaps  in  Babylon  the 
sacred  bricks  were  kicked  about  by  the  unthinking  mob ;  per- 
haps in  every  great  city  the  same  loss  of  individual  manhood 
may  be  found. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  morning  in  August  that  Angela  took  a 
little  journey  of  exploration,  accompanied  by  the  young  work- 
man who  was  her  companion  in  these  excursions.  He  led  her 
into  Iloundsditch  and  the  Minories,  where  she  had  the  pleasure 
of  inspecting  the  great  mercantile  interest  of  old  clothes,  and  of 
gazing  upon  such  as  buy  and  sell  therein.  Then  she  turned  her 
face  northwards,  and  entered  upon  a  journey  which  twenty  years 
ago  would  have  been  full  of  peril,  and  is  now,  to  one  who  loves 
his  fellow-man,  full  of  interest. 

The  great  Boulevard  of  the  East  was  thronged  with  the  class 
of  men  who  keep  the  Sabbath  in  holy  laziness  with  tobacco. 
Some  of  them  lounge,  some  talk,  some  listen,  all  have  pipes  In 
their  mouths.  Here  was  a  circle  gathered  round  a  man  who 
was  waving  his  arms  and  shouting.  He  was  an  Apostle  of 
Temperance :  behind  him  stood  a  few  of  his  private  friends  to 
act  as  a  claque.  The  listeners  seemed  amused  but  not  con- 
vinced.    "  They  will  probably,"  said  Harry, ''  enjoy  their  din- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  119 

ner  beer  quite  as  much  as  if  they  had  not  heard  this  sermon." 
Another  circle  was  gathered  round  a  man  in  a  cart,  who  had  a 
flaming  red  flag  to  support  him.  He  belonged,  the  flag  told  the 
world,  to  the  Tower  Hamlets  Magna  Charta  Association.  What 
he  said  was  listened  to  with  the  same  languid  curiosity  and 
tepid  amusement.  Angela  stopped  for  a  moment  to  hear  what 
he  had  to  say.  lie  was  detailing,  with  immense  energy,  the 
particulars  of  some  awful  act  of  injustice  committed  upon  a 
friend  unknown,  who  got  six  months.  The  law  of  England  is 
always  trampling  upon  some  innocent  victim,  according  to  this 
sympathizer  with  virtue.  The  workingmen  have  heard  it  all 
before,  and  they  continue  to  smoke  their  pipes,  their  blood  not 
quickened  by  a  single  beat.  The  ear  of  the  people  is  accus- 
tomed to  vehemence ;  the  case  must  be  put  strongly  before  it 
will  listen  at  all ;  and  listening,  as  most  brawlers  discover,  is  not 
conviction. 

Next  to  the  Magna  Charta  brethren  a  cheap-jack  had  placed 
his  cart.  He  drove  a  roaring  trade  in  twopenn'orths,  which,  out 
of  compliment  to  a  day  which  should  be  devoted  to  good  works, 
consisted  each  of  a  bottle  of  sarsaparilla,  which  he  called  "  sas- 
saple,"  and  a  box  of  pills.  Next  to  him  the  costers  stood  be- 
side their  carts  loaded  with  cheap  ices,  ginger-beer,  and  lemon- 
ade ;  to  show  that  there  was  no  deception,  a  great  glass  jar 
stood  upon  each  cart  with  actual  undeniable  slices  of  lemon 
floating  in  water,  and  a  lump  of  ice  upon  the  top ;  there  were 
also  piles  of  plums,  plums  without  end,  early  August  apples,  and 
windfall  pears ;  also  sweet  things  in  foot-long  lumps,  sticky  and 
gruesome  to  look  upon ;  Brazil  nuts,  always  a  favorite  article  of 
commerce  in  certain  circles,  though  not  often  met  with  at  the 
tables  of  the  luxurious ;  late  oranges,  more  plums,  many  more 
plums — plums  in  enormous  quantities ;  and  periwinkles,  which 
last  all  the  year  round,  with  whelks  and  vinegar  and  the  tooth- 
some shrimp.  Then  there  came  another  circle,  and  in  the  midst 
stood  a  young  man  with  long  fair  hair  and  large  blue  eyes.  He 
was  preaching  the  Gospel,  as  he  understood  it ;  his  face  was  the 
face  of  an  enthusiast :  a  little  solitude,  a  little  meditation  among 
the  mountains,  would  have  made  this  man  a  seer  of  visions  and 
a  dreamer  of  dreams.  He  was  not  ridiculous,  though  his  gram- 
mar was  defective  and  his  pronunciation  had  the  cockney  twang, 
and  his  aspirates  were  wanting :  nothing  is  ridiculous  that  is  in 
I 


120  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

earaest.  On  tlic  right  of  the  street  they  passed  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  Salvation  Army ;  the  brave  warriors  were  now  in  full 
blast,  and  the  fighting,  "  knee-drill,"  singing,  and  storming  of 
the  enemy's  fort  were  at  their  highest  and  most  enjoyable  point : 
Angela  looked  in  and  found  an  immense  hall  crammed  with  peo- 
ple who  came  to  fight  or  to  look  on,  to  scoff  or  gaze.  Higher 
up,  on  the  left,  stands  a  rival  in  red-hot  religion,  the  Ilall  of  the 
Jubilee  Singers,  where  another  vast  crowd  was  worshipping,  ex- 
horting, and  singing. 

"  There  seems,"  said  Angela,  "  to  be  too  much  exhorting. 
Can  they  not  sit  down  somewhere  in  quiet  for  praise  and 
prayer  ?" 

"We  working-people,"  replied  her  companion, " like  every- 
thing loud  and  strong.  If  we  are  persuaded  to  take  a  side,  we 
want  to  be  always  fighting  on  that  side." 

Streams  of  people  passed  them,  lounging  or  walking  with  a 
steady  purpose.  The  former  were  the  indifferent  and  the  cal- 
lous, the  hardened  and  the  stupid — men  to  whom  preachers  and 
orators  appealed  in  vain ;  to  whom  Peter  the  Hermit  might  have 
bawled  himself  hoarse,  and  Bernard  would  have  thrown  all  his 
eloquence  away ;  they  smoked  short  pipes,  with  their  hands  in 
their  pockets,  and  looked  good-tempered ;  with  them  were  boys, 
also  smoking  short  pipes,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets. 
Those  who  walked  were  young  men  dressed  in  long  frock-coats 
of  a  shiny  and  lustrous  black,  who  carried  Bibles  and  prayer- 
books  with  some  ostentation.  They  were  on  their  way  to 
church;  with  them  were  their  sisters,  for  the  most  part  well- 
dressed,  quiet  girls,  to  whom  the  noise  and  the  crowds  were  a 
part  of  life,  a  thing  not  to  be  avoided,  hardly  felt  as  a  trouble. 

"  I  am  always  getting  a  new  sensation,"  said  Angela. 

"  What  is  the  last  ?" 

"  I  have  just  realized  that  there  are  thousands  and  thousands  of 
people  who  never,  all  their  lives,  get  to  a  place  where  they  can  be 
quiet.    Always  noise,  always  crowds,  always  buying  and  selling." 

"  Here,  at  least,"  said  Harry,  "  there  is  no  noise." 

They  were  at  the  wicket-gate  of  the  Trinity  Almshouse. 

"  AVhat  do  you  think,  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

"  It  is  a  haven  of  rest,"  she  replied,  thinking  of  a  certain 
picture.     "  Let  us,  too,  seek  peace  awhile." 

It  was  just  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  beadsmen  were  going  to 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  121 

their  chapel.  They  entered  the  square,  and  joined  the  old  men 
in  their  weekly  service.  Angela  discovered,  to  her  disappoint- 
ment, that  the  splendid  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  magnificent 
portal  was  a  dummy,  because  the  real  entrance  to  the  chapel  was 
a  lowly  door  beneath  the  stone  steps,  suited,  Mr.  Bunker  would 
have  said,  to  the  humble  condition  of  the  moneyless. 

It  is  a  plain  chapel,  with  a  small  organ  in  the  corner,  a  tiny 
altar,  and  over  the  altar  the  ten  commandments  in  a  black  wood 
frame — rules  of  life  for  those  whose  life  is  well-nigh  done — and 
a  pulpit,  which  serves  for  reading  the  service  as  well  as  deliver- 
ing the  sermon.  The  congregation  consisted  of  about  thirty  of 
the  almsmen,  with  about  half  as  many  old  ladies,  and  Angela 
wondered  why  these  old  ladies  were  all  dressed  in  black,  and  all 
wore  crape.  Perhaps  they  desired  by  the  use  of  this  material 
to  symbolize  mourning  for  the  loss  of  opportunities  for  making 
money ;  or  for  the  days  of  beauty  and  courtship,  or  for  children 
dead  and  gone,  or  to  mark  the  humility  which  becomes  an  in- 
mate, or  to  do  honor  to  the  day  which  is  still  revered  by  many 
Englishwomen  as  a  day  of  humiliation  and  rebuke,  or  in  the 
belief  that  crape  confers  dignity.  We  know  not,  we  know  noth- 
ing ;  the  love  which  women  bear  for  crape  is  a  mystery ;  men 
can  but  speculate  idly  on  their  ways.  We  are  like  the  philoso- 
pher picking  up  pebbles  by  the  sea-side.  Among  the  old  peo- 
ple sat  Nelly  Sorensen,  a  flower  of  youth  and  loveliness,  in  her 
simple  black  dress,  and  her  light  hair  breaking  out  beneath  her 
bonnet.  The  Catholics  believe  that  no  church  is  complete  with- 
out a  bone  of  some  dead  saint  or  beatified  person.  Angela 
made  up  her  mind,  on  the  spot,  that  no  act  of  public  worship  is 
complete  without  the  assistance  of  youth  as  well  as  of  age. 

The  men  were  all  dressed  alike  in  blue  coats  and  brass  but- 
tons, the  uniform  of  the  place ;  they  seemed  all,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  who  was  battered  by  time,  and  was  fain  to  sit  while 
the  rest  stood,  to  be  of  the  same  age,  and  that  might  be  any- 
thing between  a  hearty  sixty-five  and  a  vigorous  eighty.  After 
the  manner  of  sailors,  they  were  all  exact  in  the  performance  of 
their  share  in  public  worship,  following  the  prayers  in  the  book 
and  the  lessons  in  the  Bible.  When  the  time  came  for  listen- 
ing they  straightened  themselves  out,  in  an  attitude  comfortable 
for  listening.  The  Scotch  elder  assumes,  during  the  sermon, 
the  air  of  a  hostile  critic :  the  face  of  the  British  rustic  becomes 
6 


122  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

vacant;  the  eyes  of  the  ordinary  listener  in  church  show  that 
his  thoughts  are  far  away ;  but  the  expression  of  a  sailor's  face, 
while  he  is  performing  the  duty — part  of  the  day's  duty — of 
listening  to  the  sermon,  shows  respectful  attention,  although  he 
may  have  heard  it  all  before. 

Angela  did  not  listen  much  to  the  sermon :  she  was  thinking 
of  the  old  men  for  whom  that  sermon  was  prepared.  There 
was  a  fresh  color  upon  their  faces,  as  if  it  was  not  so  verj'  long 
since  their  cheeks  had  been  fanned  by  the  strong  sea-breeze ; 
their  eyes  were  clear,  they  possessed  the  bearing  which  comes 
of  the  habit  of  command,  and  they  carried  themselves  as  if  they 
were  not  ashamed  of  their  poverty.  Now  Bunker,  Angela  re- 
flected, would  have  been  very  much  ashamed,  and  would  have 
hung  his  head  in  shame.  But  then  Bunker  was  one  of  the 
nimble-footed  hunters  after  money,  while  these  ignoble  persons 
had  contented  themselves  with  the  simple  and  slavish  record  of 
duty  done. 

The  service  over  they  were  joined  by  Captain  Sorensen  and 
his  daughter,  and  for  half  an  hour  walked  in  the  quiet  court 
behind  the  church,  in  peaceful  converse.  Angela  walked  with 
the  old  man,  and  Nelly  with  the  young  man.  It  matters  little 
what  they  talked  about,  but  it  was  something  good,  because 
when  the  captain  went  home  to  his  dinner  he  kissed  his  daugh- 
ter, and  said  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  the  best  day's 
work  he  ever  did  when  he  let  her  go  to  Miss  Kennedy. 

In  the  evening  Angela  made  another  journey  of  exploration 
with  the  same  escort.  They  passed  down  Stepney  Green,  and 
plunged  among  the  labyrinth  of  streets  lying  between  the  Mile 
End  Road  and  the  Thames.  It  is  as  unlovely  a  collection  of 
houses  as  may  be  found  anywhere,  always  excepting  Hoxton, 
which  may  fairly  be  considered  the  Queen  of  TJnIoveliness.  The 
houses  in  this  part  are  small,  and  they  are  almost  all  of  one  pat- 
tern. There  is  no  green  thing  to  be  seen ;  no  one  plants  trees, 
there  seem  to  be  no  gardens ;  no  flowers  are  in  the  windows ; 
there  is  no  brightness  of  paint  or  of  clean  windows;  there  is 
nothing  of  joy,  nothing  to  gladden  the  eye. 

"  Think,"  said  Harry,  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  if  in  homage  to 
the  powers  of  dirt  and  dreariness — *'  think  what  this  people  could 
be  made  if  we  could  only  carry  out  your  scheme  of  the  Palace 
of  Delight." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  128 

"  We  could  make  them  discontented,  at  least,"  said  Angela. 
"  Discontent  must  come  before  reform." 

"  We  should  leave  them  to  reform  themselves,"  said  Harry. 
"  The  mistake  of  philanthropists  is  to  think  that  they  can  do 
for  people  what  can  only  be  done  by  the  people.  As  you  said 
this  morning,  there  is  too  much  exhorting." 

Presently  they  struck  out  of  a  street  rather  more  dreary  than 
its  neighbors,  and  found  themselves  in  a  broad  road  with  a  great 
church. 

"  This  is  Limehouse  Church,"  said  Harry.  "  All  round  you 
are  sailors.  There  is  East  India  Dock  Road.  Here  is  West  In- 
dia Dock  Road.  There  is  the  Foreign  Sailors'  Home ;  and  we 
will  go  no  farther,  if  you  please,  because  the  streets  are  full,  you 
perceive,  of  the  foreign  sailors,  and  the  English  sailors,  and  the 
sailors'  friends." 

Angela  had  seen  enough  of  the  sailors.  They  turned  back. 
Harrv  led  her  through  another  labyrinth  into  another  broad 
street,  also  crowded  with  sailors. 

"  This  is  Shadwell,"  said  her  guide  ;  "  and  if  there  is  anything 
in  Shadwell  to  interest  you,  I  do  not  know  what  it  is.  Survey 
Shadwell !" 

Angela  looked  up  the  street  and  down  the  street ;  there  was 
nothing  for  the  eye  in  search  of  the  beautiful  or  the  picturesque 
to  rest  upon.  But  a  great  bawling  of  rough  voices  came  from 
a  great  tent  stuck  up,  oddly,  beside  the  road.  A  white  canvas 
sheet  with  black  letters  proclaimed  this  as  the  place  of  worship 
of  the  "Happy  Gypsies."  They  were  holding  their  Sunday 
function. 

"  More  exhorting !"  said  Angela. 

"  Now  this,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  along,  "  is  a  more  inter- 
esting place.  It  used  to  be  called  Ratcliffe  Highway,  and  had 
the  reputation  of  being  the  wickedest  place  in  London.  I  dare 
say  it  was  all  brag,  and  that  really  it  was  not  much  worse  than 
its  neighbors." 

It  is  a  distinctly  squalid  street,  that  now  called  St.  George's- 
in-the-East.  But  it  has  its  points ;  it  is  picturesque,  like  a  good 
many  dirty  places ;  the  people  are  good-tempered,  though  they 
do  not  wash  their  faces  even  on  Sundays.  They  have  quite  left 
off  knocking  down,  picking  pockets,  kicking,  and  robbing  the 
harmless  stranger ;  they  are  advancing  slowly  towards  civilization. 


124  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Ilany. 

lie  passed  through  a  narrow  passage,  and  led  the  way  into  a 
place  at  the  sight  of  which  Angela  was  fain  to  cry  out  in  sur- 
prise. 

In  it  was  nothing  less  than  a  fair  and  gracious  garden  planted 
with  flowers,  and  these  in  the  soft  August  sunshine  showed 
sweet  and  lovely.  The  beds  were  well  kept ;  the  walks  were  of 
asphalt ;  there  were  seats  set  about,  and  on  them  old  women 
and  old  men  sat  basking  in  the  evening  sun.  The  young  men 
and  maidens  walked  along  the  paths — an  Arcadian  scene. 

"  This  little  strip  of  Eden,"  said  Harry,  "  was  cut  out  of  the 
old  churchyard." 

The  rest  of  the  churchyard  was  divided  from  the  garden  by 
a  railing,  and  round  the  wall  were  the  tombstones  of  the  de- 
parted obscure.  From  the  church  itself  was  heard  the  rolling 
of  the  organ  and  the  soft  singing  of  a  hymn. 

'*  This,"  said  Angela,  "  is  better  than  exhortation.  A  garden 
for  meditation  and  the  church  for  prayer.  I  like  this  place  bet- 
ter than  the  Whitechapel  Road." 

"  I  will  show  you  a  more  quiet  place  still,"  said  her  guide. 
They  walked  a  little  way  farther  down  the  main  street,  then  he 
turned  into  a  narrow  street  on  the  north,  and  Angela  found  her- 
self in  a  square  of  clean  houses  round  an  enclosure  of  grass. 
Within  the  enclosure  was  a  chapel,  and  tombs  Avere  dotted  on 
the  grass. 

They  went  into  the  chapel,  a  plain  edifice  of  the  Georgian 
kind,  with  round  windows,  and  the  evening  sun  shone  through 
the  window  in  the  west.  The  high  pews  were  occupied  by  a 
congregation  of  forty  or  fifty,  all  men.  They  all  had  light-brown 
hair,  and,  as  they  turned  round  to  look  at  the  new-comers,  An- 
gela saw  that  they  all  had  blue  eyes.  The  preacher,  who  wore 
a  black  gown  and  bands,  was  similarly  provided  as  to  hair  and 
eyes.  He  preached  in  a  foreign  tongue,  and,  as  it  is  difficult  to 
be  edified  by  a  sermon  not  in  one's  native  speech,  they  shortly 
went  out  again.  They  were  followed  by  the  verger,  who  seemed 
not  indisposed  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  service  by  a  few 
minutes'  walk. 

He  talked  English  imperfectly,  but  he  told  them  that  it  was  the 
church  of  the  Swedes.  Angela  asked  if  they  were  all  sailors. 
He  said,  with  some  seeming  contempt  for  sailors,  that  only  a 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP   MEN.  126 

few  of  tlieni  were  sailors.  Slic  then  said  that  she  supposed  they 
were  people  engaged  in  trade.  Ue  shook  his  head  again,  and 
informed  her  with  a  mysterious  air  that  many  of  the  Swedish 
nobility  lived  in  that  neighborhood.  After  this  they  came  away, 
for  fear  of  greater  surprises. 

They  followed  St.  George's-in-the-East  to  the  end  of  the  street. 
Then  they  turned  to  the  right  and  passed  through  a  straight  and 
quite  ignoble  road  leading  north.  It  is  a  street  generally  af- 
fected by  Germans.  German  names  are  over  every  shop  and 
on  every  brass  plate.  They  come  hither,  these  honest  Germans, 
because  to  get  good  work  in  London  is  better  than  going  after 
it  to  New  York  or  Philadelphia,  and  nearer  home.  In  the  sec- 
ond generation  their  names  will  be  anglicized,  and  their  children 
will  have  become  ricli  London  merchants,  and  very  likely  cabi- 
net ministers.  They  have  their  churches,  too,  the  Reformed  and 
the  Lutheran,  with  nothing  to  choose  between  them  on  the  score 
of  ugliness. 

"  Let  us  get  home,"  said  Angela ;  "  I  have  seen  enough." 

"It  is  the  joylessness  of  the  life,"  she  explained,  "the  igno- 
rant, contented  joylessness,  which  weighs  upon  one.  And  there 
is  so  much  of  it.  Surely  there  is  no  other  city  in  the  world 
which  is  so  utterly  without  joy  as  this  East  London." 

"  No,"  said  Harry,  "  there  is  not  in  the  whole  world  a  city  so 
devoid  of  pleasant  things.  They  do  not  know  how  to  be  happy. 
They  are  like  your  work-girls  when  you  told  them  to  dance." 

"  Look !"  she  cried,  "  what  is  that  ?" 

There  was  a  hoarse  roar  of  many  voices  from  a  court  leading 
out  of  the  main  road ;  the  roar  became  louder ;  Harry  drew  the 
girl  aside  as  a  mob  of  men  and  boys  and  women  rushed  head- 
long out  of  the  place.  It  was  not  a  fight  apparently,  yet  there 
was  beating  with  sticks  and  kicking.  For  those  who  were  beaten 
did  not  strike  back  in  return.  After  a  little,  the  beaters  and 
kickers  desisted,  and  returned  to  their  court  as  to  a  stronghold 
whose  rights  they  had  vindicated. 

Those  who  had  been  beaten  were  a  band  of  about  a  dozen, 
men  and  women.  The  women's  shawls  were  hanging  in  tatters, 
and  they  had  lost  their  bonnets.  The  men  were  without  hats, 
and  their  coats  were  grievously  torn.  There  was  a  thing  among 
them  which  had  been  a  banner,  but  the  pole  was  broken,  and 
the  flag  was  dragged  in  the  dirt  and  smirched. 


126  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

One  of  tbeni  who  seemed  to  be  the  leader — ^he  wore  a  uniform 
coat  something  like  a  volunteer's  coat — stepped  to  the  front  and 
called  upon  them  all  to  form.  Then  with  a  loud  voice  he  led  off 
a  hymn,  in  which  all  joined  as  they  marched  down  the  street. 

He  was  hatless,  and  his  check  was  bleeding  from  an  open 
wound.  Yet  he  looked  undaunted,  and  his  hymn  was  a  song 
of  triumph.  A  well-set-up  young  fellow,  with  thick  black  hair 
and  a  black  beard,  but  pale  cheeks.  His  forehead  was  square 
and  firm ;  his  eyes  were  black  and  fierce. 

"  Good  heavens !"  cried  Harry ;  "  it  is  my  cousin  Tom,  cap- 
tain in  the  Salvation  Army.  And  that,  I  suppose,  is  his  regi- 
ment. Well,  if  standing  still  to  be  kicked  means  a  victory,  they 
have  scored  one  to-night." 

The  pavement  was  even  more  crowded  than  in  the  morning. 
The  political  agitators  bawled  more  fiercely  than  in  the  forenoon 
to  their  circle  of  apathetic  listeners ;  the  preachers  exhorted  the 
unwilling  more  fervently  to  embrace  the  faith.  Cheap-jack  was 
dispensing  more  volubly  his  two  penn'orths  of  "  sassaple."  The 
workmen  lounged  along,  with  their  pipes  in  their  mouths,  more 
lazily  than  in  the  morning.  The  only  difference  was  that  the 
shop-boys  were  now  added  to  the  crowd,  every  lad  with  a  "  two- 
penny smoke  "  between  his  lips ;  and  that  the  throng  was  in- 
creased by  those  who  were  going  home  from  church. 

"  Let  us,  too,  go  home,"  said  Angela ;  "  there  is  too  much 
humanity  here :  we  shall  lose  ourselves  among  the  crowd." 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

Angela's  experiment. 


"  No,  Constance,"  Angela  wrote,  "  I  cannot  believe  that  your 
lectures  will  be  a  failure,  or  that  your  life's  work  is  destined  to 
be  anything  short  of  a  brilliant  success — an  '  epoch-making ' 
episode  in  the  history  of  woman's  rise.  If  your  lectures  have 
not  yet  attracted  reading  men,  it  must  be  because  they  are  not 
yet  known.  It  is  unworthy  of  faith  in  your  own  high  mission 
to  suppose  that  personal  appearance  or  beauty  has  anything  to 
do  with  popularity  in  matters  of  mind.  Who  asks — who  can 
ask  ? — whether  a  woman  of  genius  is  lovely  or  not  ?     And  to 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  127 

take  lower  ground ;  every  woman  owns  tlie  singular  attractive- 
ness of  your  own  face,  which  has  always  seemed  to  me,  apart 
from  personal  friendship,  the  face  of  pure  intellect.  I  do  not 
give  up  my  belief  that  the  men  will  soon  begin  to  run  after  your 
lectures  as  they  did  after  those  of  Ilypatia,  and  that  you  will 
become  in  the  university  as  great  a  teacher  of  mathematics  as 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  himself.  Meantime,  it  must  be,  I  own,  irk- 
some to  lecture  on  vulgar  fractions  and  the  first  book  of  Euclid, 
and  unsatisfactory  to  find,  after  you  have  made  a  research  and 
arrived  at  what  seemed  a  splendid  result,  that  some  man  has 
been  before  you.     Patience,  Constance  !" 

At  this  point  the  reader,  who  was  of  course  Constance  Wood- 
cote,  paused  and  smiled  bitterly.  She  was  angry  because  she 
had  advertised  a  course  of  lectures  on  some  desperately  high 
mathematical  subject  and  no  one  came  to  hear  them.  Had  she 
been,  she  reflected,  a  pink-and-white  girl,  with  no  forehead  and 
soft  eyes,  everybody  would  have  rushed  to  hear  her.  As  it  was, 
Angela,  no  doubt,  meant  well,  but  she  was  always  disposed  to 
give  men  credit  for  qualities  which  they  did  not  possess.  As 
if  you  could  ever  persuade  a  man  to  regard  a  woman  from  a 
purely  intellectual  point  of  view  !  After  all,  she  thought,  civili- 
zation was  only  just  begun :  we  live  in  a  world  of  darkness :  the 
reign  of  woman  is  as  yet  afar  off.  She  continued  her  reading 
with  impatience.  Somehow,  her  friend  seemed  to  have  drifted 
away :  their  lines  were  diverging :  already  the  old  enthusiasms 
had  given  place  to  the  new,  and  Angela  thought  less  of  the  great 
cause  which  she  had  once  promised  to  further  with  her  mighty 
resources. 

"As  regards  the  scholarship  which  I  promised  you,  I  must 
ask  you  to  wait  a  little,  because  my  hands  are  full — so  full  of 
important  things  that  even  a  new  scholarship  at  Newnhain  seems 
a  small  thing.  I  cannot  tell  you  in  a  letter  what  my  projects 
are,  and  how  I  am  trying  to  do  something  new  with  my  great 
wealth.  This,  at  least,  I  may  tell  you,  partly  because  I  am  in- 
toxicated with  my  own  schemes,  and  therefore  I  must  tell  every- 
body I  speak  to ;  and  partly  because  you  are  perfectly  certain 
not  to  sympathize  with  me,  and  therefore  you  will  not  trouble 
to  argue  the  point  with  me.  I  have  found  out,  to  begin  with,  a 
great  truth.  It  is  that  would-be  philanthropists  and  benefactors 
and  improvers  of  things  have  all  along  been  working  on  a  false 


128  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

assumption.  They  Lave  taught  and  believed  that  the  people 
look  up  to  the  '  better  class ' — phrase  invented  by  the  well-to-do 
in  order  to  show  how  riches  and  virtue  go  together — for  guid- 
ance and  advice.  My  dear,  it  is  the  greatest  mistake :  they  do 
not  look  up  to  us  at  all ;  they  do  not  want  to  copy  our  ways ; 
they  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  their  own  ways ;  they  will  natu- 
rally take  as  much  money  as  we  choose  to  give  them,  and  as 
many  presents ;  and  they  consider  the  exhortations,  teachings, 
preachings,  admonitions,  words  of  guidance,  and  advice  as  un- 
comfortable but  unavoidable  accompaniments  of  this  gift.  But 
we  ourselves  are  neither  respected  nor  copied.  Nor  do  they 
want  our  culture." 

"Angela,"  said  the  mathematician,  "is  really  very  prolix." 
"  This  being  so,  I  am  endeavoring  to  make  such  people  as  I 
can  get  at  discontented  as  a  first  step.  Without  discontent, 
nothing  can  be  done.  I  work  upon  them  by  showing,  practi- 
cally, and  by  way  of  example,  better  things.  This  I  can  do  be- 
cause I  am  here  as  simply  one  of  themselves — a  work-woman 
among  other  work-women.  I  do  not  work  so  much  as  the  others 
in  our  newly  formed  association  because  I  am  supposed  to  run 
the  machine,  and  to  go  to  the  West  End  for  work.  Miss  Mes- 
senger is  one  of  our  customers.  So  much  am  I  one  of  them, 
that  I  take  my  wages  on  Saturday,  and  am  to  have  the  same 
share,  and  no  more,  in  the  business  as  my  dressmakers.  I  con- 
fess to  you  that  in  the  foundation  of  my  dressmakers'  associa- 
tion I  have  violated  most  distinctly  every  precept  of  political  and 
social  economy.  I  have  given  them  a  house  rent-free  for  a  year ; 
I  have  fitted  it  up  with  all  that  they  want ;  I  have  started  them 
with  orders  from  myself;  I  have  resolved  to  keep  them  going 
until  they  are  able  to  run  alone ;  I  give  wages  in  money  and  in 
food,  higher  than  the  market  value.  I  know  what  you  will  say. 
It  is  all  quite  true,  scientifically.  But  outside  the  range  of  sci- 
ence there  is  humanity.  And  only  think  what  a  great  field  my 
method  opens  for  the  employment  of  the  unfortunate  rich — the 
unhappy,  useless,  heavily  burdened  rich.  They  will  all  follow 
my  example  and  help  the  people  to  help  themselves. 

"  My  girls  were  at  first  and  for  the  most  part  uninteresting, 
until  I  came  to  know  them  individually  :  every  one,  when  you 
know  her,  and  can  sympathize  with  her,  becomes  interesting. 
Some  arc,  however,  more  interesting  than  others :  there  arc  two 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  129 

or  three,  for  instance,  in  whom  I  feel  a  special  interest.  One  of 
tlieui,  Avhom  I  love  for  her  gentleness  and  for  her  loyalty  to  me, 
is  the  daughter  of  an  old  ship-captain,  now  in  an  almshouse. 
She  is  singularly  beautiful,  with  an  air  of  fragility  which  one 
hopes  is  not  real ;  she  is  endowed  by  nature  with  a  keenly  sen- 
sitive disposition,  and  has  had  the  advantage,  rare  in  these  parts, 
of  a  father  who  learned  to  be  a  gentleman  before  he  came  to  the 
almshouse.  The  other  is  a  religious  fanatic,  a  sectarian  of  the 
most  positive  kind.  She  knows  what  is  true  more  certainly  than 
any  professor  of  truth  we  ever  encountered ;  she  is  my  mana- 
ger, and  is  good  at  business.  I  think  she  has  come  to  regard 
me  with  less  contempt,  from  a  business  point  of  view,  than  she 
did  at  first,  because  in  the  conduct  of  the  showroom  and  the 
trying-on  room  she  has  all  her  own  way. 

"  My  evenings  are  mostly  spent  with  the  girls  in  the  garden 
and  *  drawing-room.'  Yes,  we  have  a  drawing-room  over  the 
workroom.  At  first  we  had  tea  at  five  and  struck  work  at 
seven  ;  now  we  strike  work  at  half-past  six  and  take  tea  with 
lawn-tennis.  I  assure  you  my  dressmakers  are  as  fond  of  lawn- 
tennis  as  the  students  of  Newnham.  When  it  is  too  dark  to 
play,  we  go  up-stairs  and  have  music  and  dancing."  Here  fol- 
lowed a  word  which  had  been  erased.  The  mathematical  lec- 
turer held  the  letter  to  the  light  and  fancied  the  word  was 
"  Harry."  This  could  hardly  be  :  it  must  be  Hetty,  or  Kitty,  or 
Lotty,  or  some  such  feminine  abbreviation.  There  could  be  no 
Harry.  She  looked  again.  Strange  !  It  certainly  was  Harry. 
She  shook  her  head  suspiciously,  and  went  on  with  the  letter. 

'*  The  girls'  friends  and  sisters  have  begun  to  come,  and  we 
are  learning  all  kinds  of  dances.  Fortunately  my  dear  old  cap- 
tain from  the  almshouse  can  play  the  fiddle,  and  likes  nothing 
better  than  to  play  for  us.  We  place  him  in  the  corner  beside 
the  piano,  and  he  plays  as  long  as  we  please,  being  the  best  of 
all  old  captains.  We  are  not  well  off  for  men,  having  at  present 
to  rely  principally  on  a  superior  young  cabinet-maker,  who  cap 
also  play  the  fiddle  on  occasion.  He  dances  very  well,  and  per- 
haps he  will  fall  in  love  with  the  captain's  daughter, 

*'  What  I  have  attempted  is,  in  short,  nothing  less  than  the  in- 
troduction of  a  love  of  what  we  call  culture.  Other  things  will 
follow,  but  at  present  I  am  contented  with  an  experiment  on  a 
very  humble  scale.  If  I  were  to  go  among  the  people  in  my 
G* 


130  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

name,  most  of  them  would  try  to  borrow  or  steal  from  me  ;  as  I 
am  only  a  poor  dressmaker,  only  those  who  have  business  with 
me  try  to  take  me  in.  I  do  not  go  on  a  platform  and  lecture 
the  people :  nor  do  I  open  a  school  to  teach  them  ;  nor  do  I 
print  and  circulate  tracts.  I  simply  say, '  My  dears,  I  am  going 
to  dance  and  sing,  and  have  a  little  music,  and  play  lawn-tennis ; 
come  with  me  and  we  will  dance  together.'  And  they  come. 
And  they  behave  well.  I  think  it  is  a  strange  thing  that  young 
women  of  the  lower  class  always  prefer  to  behave  well  when 
they  can,  while  young  men  of  their  own  station  take  so  much 
pleasure  in  noise  and  riot.  We  have  no  difficulty  in  our  draw- 
ing-room, where  the  girls  behave  perfectly  and  enjoy  themselves 
in  a  surprising  manner.  I  find,  already,  a  great  improvement  in 
the  girls.  They  have  acquired  new  interests  in  life ;  they  are 
happier ;  consequently  they  chatter  like  birds  in  spring  and  sun- 
shine ;  and  whereas,  since  I  came  into  these  regions,  it  has  been 
a  constant  pain  to  listen  to  the  querulous  and  angry  talk  of 
work-girls  in  omnibuses  and  streets,  I  rejoice  that  we  have 
changed  all  this,  and  while  they  are  with  me  my  girls  can  talk 
without  angry  snapping  of  the  lips,  and  without  the  *  sezi '  and 
•  sezee '  and  '  seshee '  of  the  omnibus.  This  is  surely  a  great 
gain  for  them. 

"  Next,  I  observe  that  they  are  developing  a  certain  amount 
of  pride  in  their  own  superiority :  they  are  lifted  above  their 
neighbors,  if  only  by  the  nightly  drawing-room.  I  fear  they 
will  become  unpopular  from  hauteur :  but  there  is  no  gain  with- 
out some  loss.  If  only  one  felt  justified  in  doubling  the  num- 
ber of  the  girls !  But  the  Stepney  ladies  have  hitherto  shown 
no  enthusiasm  in  the  cause  of  the  association.  The  feeling  in 
these  parts  is,  you  see,  commercial  rather  than  co-operative. 

"  The  dinner  is  to  me  the  most  satisfactory  as  well  as  the 
most  unscientific  part  of  the  business.  I  believe  I  have  no  right 
to  give  them  a  dinner  at  all :  it  is  against  the  custom  in  dress- 
makers' shops,  where  girls  bring  their  own  dinners,  poor  things : 
it  costs  quite  a  shilling  a  head  every  day  to  find  the  dinner,  and 
Rebekah,  my  forewoman,  tells  me  that  no  profit  can  stand  against 
such  a  drain :  but  I  must  go  on  with  the  dinner,  even  if  it  swal- 
lows up  all  the  profits. 

"  On  Sundays  the  drawing-room  is  kept  open  all  day  long  for 
those  who  like  to  come.     Some  do,  because  it  is  quiet.     In  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  131 

evening  avc  have  sacred  music.  One  of  the  young  men  plays 
the  violin" — the  reader  turned  back  and  referred  to  a  previous 
passage — yes ;  she  had  already  mentioned  a  cabinet-maker  in 
connection  -svith  a  fiddle — no  doubt  it  must  be  the  same — "  and 
we  have  duets,  but  I  fear  the  girls  do  not  care  much,  yet,  for 
classical  music — " 

Here  the  reader  crumpled  up  the  letter  in  impatience. 

"  And  this,"  she  groaned,  "  is  the  result  of  two  years  at  Newn- 
ham  !  After  her  course  of  political  economy,  after  all  those  lect- 
ures, after  actually  distinguishing  herself  and  taking  a  place,  this 
is  the  end !  To  play  the  piano  for  a  lot  of  work-girls ;  with  a 
a  cabinet-maker ;  and  an  old  sailor ;  and  to  be  a  dressmaker ! 
That  is,  alas !  the  very  worst  feature  in  the  case :  she  evidently 
likes  it ;  she  has  no  wish  to  return  to  civilization ;  she  has  for- 
gotten her  science  ;  she  is  setting  a  most  mischievous  example ; 
and  she  has  forgotten  her  distinct  promise  to  give  us  a  mathe- 
matical scholarship. 

"Oh!  Angela!" 

She  had  imagined  that  the  heiress  would  endow  Newnham 
with  great  gifts,  and  she  was  disappointed.  She  had  imagined 
this  so  very  strongly  that  she  felt  personally  aggrieved  and  in- 
jured :  what  did  she  care  about  Stepney  work-girls  ?  What  have 
mathematics  to  do  with  poor  people  in  an  ugly  and  a  poor  part 
of  town  ? 

Angela's  letter  did  not  convey  the  whole  truth,  because  she 
herself  was  ignorant  of  the  discussions,  gossip,  rumors,  and  re- 
ports which  were  flying  about  in  the  neighborhood  of  Stepney 
Green  concerning  her  venture.  There  were  some,  for  instance, 
who  demonstrated  that  such  an  institution  must  fail  for  reasons 
which  they  learnedly  expounded  ;  among  these  was  Mr.  Bunker. 
There  were  some  who  were  ready  to  prove,  from  the  highest  au- 
thorities, the  wickedness  of  trying  to  do  without  a  proprietor, 
master,  or  boss ;  there  were  some  who  saw  in  this  revolutionary 
movement  the  beginning  of  those  troubles  which  will  afflict  man- 
kind towards  the  coming  of  the  end ;  there  were  others,  among 
whom  was  also  Mr.  Bunker,  who  asked  by  what  right  this  young 
woman  had  come  among  them  to  interfere,  where  she  had  got 
her  money,  and  what  were  her  antecedents  ?  To  Bunker's  cer- 
tain knowledge,  and  no  one  had  better  sources  of  information, 
hundreds  had  been  spent  by  Miss  Kennedy  in  starting  the  as- 


132  ALL    S0UT3    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

sociation ;  while,  whether  it  was  true  that  Miss  Messenger  snp- 
ported  the  place  or  not,  there  could  never  be  enough  work  to 
get  back  all  that  money,  pay  all  the  wages  and  the  rent,  and  the 
dinners :  and  hot  dinners  every  day  !  There  was  even  talk  of 
getting  up  a  memorial  praying  Miss  Messenger  not  to  interfere 
with  the  trade  of  the  place,  and  pointing  out  that  there  were 
many  most  respectable  dressmakers  where  the  work  could  be 
quite  as  well  done  as  by  Miss  Kennedy's  girls,  no  doubt  cheaper, 
and  the  profit  would  go  to  the  rightful  claimant  of  it,  not  to  be 
divided  among  the  work-women. 

As  for  the  privileges  bestowed  upon  the  girls,  there  was  in 
certain  circles  bat  one  opinion — they  were  ridiculous.  Recrea- 
tion time,  free  dinner  of  meat  and  vegetables,  short  hours,  read- 
ing aloud,  and  a  club-room  or  drawing-room  for  the  evening : 
what  more  could  their  betters  have  ?  For  it  is  a  fixed  article  of 
belief,  one  of  the  Twenty -nine  Articles  in  certain  strata  of  society, 
that  people  "  below  them "  have  no  right  to  the  enjoyment  of 
anything.  They  do  not  mean  to  be  cruel,  but  they  have  always 
associated  poverty  with  dirt,  discomfort,  disagreeable  compan- 
ions, and  the  absence  of  pleasantness :  for  a  poor  person  to  be 
happy  is  either  to  them  an  impossibility,  or  it  is  a  flying  in  the 
face  of  Providence.  But,  then,  these  people  know  nothing  of 
the  joys  which  can  be  had  without  money.  Now,  when  the 
world  discovers  and  realizes  how  many  these  are  and  how  great 
they  are,  the  reign  of  the  almighty  dollar  is  at  an  end.  WTiat- 
cver  the  Stepney  folks  thought,  and  however  diverse  their  judg- 
ments, they  were  all  extremely  curious :  and  after  the  place  had 
been  open  for  a  few  weeks  and  began  to  get  known,  all  the  ladies 
from  Whitechapel  Church  to  Bow  Church  began  with  one  con- 
sent to  call.  They  were  received  by  a  young  person  of  grave 
face  and  grave  manners,  who  showed  them  all  they  wanted  to 
see,  answered  all  their  questions,  and  allowed  them  to  visit  the 
workrooms  and  the  showrooms,  the  dining-room  and  the  draw- 
ing-room ;  they  also  saw  most  beautiful  dresses  which  were 
being  made  for  Miss  Messenger;  those  who  went  there  in  the 
morning  might  see  with  their  own  eyes  dressmaker  girls  actually 
playing  lawn-tennis ;  if  in  the  afternoon,  they  might  see  an  old 
gentleman  reading  aloud  while  the  girls  worked ;  they  might 
also  observe  that  there  were  flowers  in  the  room;  it  was  per- 
fectly certain  that  there  was  a  piano  up-stairs,  because  it  had 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MKN.  133 

been. seen  by  many,  and  the  person  in  the  sbowroom  made  no 
secret  at  all  that  there  was  dancing  in  the  evening,  with  songs, 
and  reading  of  books,  and  other  diversions. 

The  contemplation  of  these  things  mostly  sent  the  visitors 
away  in  sorrow.  They  did  not  dance  or  sing  or  play,  they  never 
wanted  to  dance  or  sing,  lawn-tennis  was  not  played  by  their 
daughters,  they  did  not  have  bright-covered  books  to  read  ;  what 
did  it  mean,  giving  these  things  to  dressmaker  girls  ?  Some  of 
them  not  only  resolved  not  to  send  their  custom  to  the  associa- 
tion, but  directed  tracts  to  the  house. 

They  came,  however,  after  a  time,  and  had  their  dresses  made 
there,  for  a  reason  which  will  appear  in  the  sequel.  But  at  the 
outset  they  held  aloof. 

Far  different  was  the  reception  given  to  the  institution  by  the 
people  for  whose  benefit  it  was  designed.  When  they  had  quite 
got  over  their  natural  suspicion  of  a  strange  thing,  when  the 
girls  were  found  to  bring  home  their  pay  regularly  on  a  Satur- 
day, when  the  dinner  proved  a  real  thing  and  the  hours  con- 
tinued to  be  merciful,  when  the  girls  reported  continuously  kind 
treatment,  when  the  evenings  spent  in  the  drawing-room  were 
found  to  be  delightful,  and  when  other  doubts  and  whisperings 
about  Miss  Kennedy's  motives,  intentions,  and  secret  character 
gradually  died  away,  the  association  became  popular,  and  all  the 
needle-girls  of  the  place  would  fain  have  joined  Miss  Kennedy. 
The  thing  which  did  the  most  to  create  the  popularity  was  the 
permission  for  the  girls  to  bring  some  of  their  friends  and  peo- 
ple on  the  Saturday  evenipg.  They  "  received "  on  Saturday 
evening ;  they  were  at  home ;  they  entertained  their  guests  on 
that  night ;  and,  though  the  entertainment  cost  nothing  but  the 
lights,  it  soon  became  an  honor  and  a  pleasure  to  receive  an  in- 
vitation. Most  of  those  who  came  at  first  were  other  girls ;  they 
were  shy  and  stood  about  all  arms ;  then  they  learned  their  steps ; 
then  they  danced ;  then  the  weariness  wore  out  of  their  eyes, 
and  the  roses  came  back  to  their  cheeks ;  they  forgot  the  nag- 
gings of  the  workroom,  and  felt  for  the  first  time  the  joy  of 
their  youth.  Some  of  them  were  inclined  at  first  to  be  rough 
and  bold,  but  the  atmosphere  calmed  them ;  they  either  came 
no  more,  or,  if  they  came,  they  were  quiet ;  some  of  them  af- 
fected a  superior  and  contemptuous  air,  not  uncommon  with 
"  young  persons  "  when  they  are  jealous  or  envious,  but  this  is 


134  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN. 

a  mood  easily  cured ;  some  of  them  were  frivolous,  but  these 
were  also  easily  subdued.  For  always  with  them  was  Miss  Ken- 
nedy herself,  a  Juno,  their  queen,  whose  manner  was  so  kind, 
whose  smile  was  so  sweet,  whose  voice  was  so  soft,  whose  greet- 
ing was  so  warm,  and  yet — yet — who  could  not  be  resisted  even 
by  the  boldest  or  the  most  frivolous.  The  first  step  was  not  to 
be  afraid  of  Miss  Kennedy  :  at  no  subsequent  stage  of  their  ac- 
quaintance did  any  cease  to  respect  her. 

As  for  Rebekah,  she  would  not  come  on  Saturday  evening,  as 
it  was  part  of  her  Sabbath ;  but  Nelly  proved  of  the  greatest 
use  in  maintaining  the  decorum  and  in  promoting  the  spirit  of 
the  evenings,  which  wanted,  it  is  true,  a  leader. 

Sometimes  the  girls'  mothers  would  come,  especially  those 
who  had  not  too  many  babies ;  they  sat  with  folded  hands  and 
wondering  eyes,  while  their  daughters  danced,  while  Miss  Ken- 
nedy sang,  or  Mr.  Goslett  played  his  fiddle.  Angela  went  among 
them,  talking  in  her  sympathetic  way,  and  won  their  confidence, 
so  that  they  presently  responded  and  told  her  all  their  troubles 
and  woe.  Or  sometimes  the  fathers  would  be  brought,  but  very 
seldom  came  twice.  Now  and  then  a  brother  would  appear,  but 
it  was  many  weeks  before  the  brothers  began  to  come  regularly  : 
when  they  did,  it  became  apparent  that  there  was  something 
in  the  place  more  attractive  than  brotherly  duty  or  the  love  of 
dancing.  Of  course,  sweethearts  were  bound  to  come  whether 
they  liked  it  or  not.  There  were,  at  first,  many  little  hitches, 
disagreeable  incidents,  rebellious  exhibitions  of  temper,  bad 
behavior,  mistakes,  social  sins,  and  other  things  of  which  the 
chronicler  must  be  mute,  because  the  general  result  is  all  that 
we  desire  to  record.  And  this  was  satisfactory.  For  the  first 
time  the  girls  learned  that  there  were  joys  in  life,  joys  even 
within  their  reach,  with  a  little  help,  poor  as  they  were ;  joys 
which  cost  them  nothing.  Among  them  were  girls  of  the  very 
humblest,  who  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  presenting  a  decent 
appearance,  who  lived  in  crowded  lodgings  or  in  poor  houses 
with  their  numerous  brothers  and  sisters;  pale-faced  girls; 
heavy-hearted  girls ;  joyless  maidens ;  loveless  maidens ;  girls 
who,  from  long  hours  of  work,  and  from  want  of  open  air  and 
good  food,  stooped  their  shoulders  and  dragged  their  limbs — 
when  Angela  saw  them  first,  she  wished  that  she  was  a  man  to 
use  strong  language  against  their  employers.     IIow  she  violated 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  135 

all  principles  of  social  economy,  giving  clothes,  secretly  lending 
money,  visiting  mothers,  paying  rent,  and  all  without  any  regard 
to  supply  and  demand,  marketable  value,  price  current,  worth  of 
labor,  wages  rate,  averages,  percentages,  interest,  capital,  com- 
mercial rules,  theory  of  trade,  encouragement  of  over-population, 
would  be  too  disgraceful  to  narrate ;  indeed,  she  blushed  when 
she  thought  of  the  beautiful  and  heart-warming  science  in  which 
she  had  so  greatly  distinguished  herself,  and  on  which  she  tram- 
pled daily.  Yet  if,  on  the  one  side,  there  stood  cold  science, 
and  on  the  other  a  suffering  girl,  it  is  ridiculous  to  acknowledge 
that  the  girl  always  won  the  day. 

Among  the  girls  was  one  who  interested  Angela  greatly ;  not 
because  she  was  pretty,  for  she  was  not  pretty  at  all,  but  plain 
to  look  upon,  and  lame — but  because  she  bore  a  very  hard  lot 
with  patience  and  courage  very  beautiful  to  see.  She  had  a  sis- 
ter who  was  crippled  and  had  a  weak  back,  so  that  she  could 
not  sit  up  long,  nor  earn  much.  She  had  a  mother  who  was 
growing  old  and  weak  of  sight,  so  that  she  could  not  earn  much  ; 
she  had  a  young  brother  who  lived  like  the  sparrows — that  is  to 
say,  he  ran  wild  in  the  streets  and  stole  his  daily  bread,  and  was 
rapidly  rising  to  the  dignity  and  rank  of  an  habitual  criminal. 
He  seldom,  however,  came  home,  except  to  borrow  or  beg  for 
money.  She  had  a  father,  whose  name  was  never  mentioned, 
so  that  he  was  certainly  an  undesirable  father,  a  bad  bargain 
of  a  father,  a  father  impossible,  viewed  in  connection  with  the 
Fifth  Commandment.  This  was  the  girl  who  burst  into  tears 
when  she  saw  the  roast  beef  for  the  first  time.  Her  tears  were 
caused  by  a  number  of  reasons :  first,  because  she  was  hungry 
and  her  condition  was  low ;  secondly,  because  roasted  beef  to  a 
hungry  girl  is  a  thing  too  beautiful ;  thirdly,  because,  while  she 
was  feasting,  her  sister  and  mother  were  starving.  The  crippled 
sister  presently  came  to  the  house  and  remained  in  it  all  day. 
What  special  arrangements  were  made  with  Rebekah,  the  Spirit 
of  Commerce,  as  regards  her  pay,  I  know  not ;  but  she  came, 
did  a  little  work,  sat  or  lay  down  in  the  drawing-room  most  of 
the  time ;  and  presently,  under  Miss  Kennedy's  instruction,  be- 
gan to  practise  on  the  piano.  A  work-girl,  actually  a  work- 
girl,  if  you  please,  playing  scales,  with  a  one,  two,  three,  four, 
one,  two,  three,  four,  just  as  if  she  were  a  lady  living  in  the 
Mile  End  Road  and  the  daughter  of  a  clerk  in  the  Brewery. 
K 


136  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Yes :  the  girls  who  had  formerly  worked  in  unhealthy  rooms 
till  half-past  eight  now  worked  in  well-ventilated  rooms  till  half- 
past  six ;  they  had  time  to  rest  and  run  about ;  they  had  good 
food;  they  had  cheerful  talk;  they, were  encouraged;  Captain 
Sorensen  came  to  read  to  them ;  in  the  evening  they  had  a  de- 
lightful room  to  sit  in,  where  they  could  read  and  talk,  or  dance 
and  listen.  While  they  read  the  books  which  Miss  Kennedy 
laid  on  the  table  for  them,  she  would  play  and  sing.  First,  she 
chose  simple  songs  and  simple  pieces ;  and  as  their  taste  for 
music  grew,  so  her  music  improved,  and  every  day  found  the 
drawing-room  more  attractive,  and  the  girls  more  loath  to  go 
home.  She  watched  her  experiment  with  the  keenest  interest : 
the  girls  were  certainly  growing  more  refined  in  manner  and  in 
thought.  Even  Rebekah  was  softening  daily  ;  she  looked  on  at 
the  dance  without  a  shudder,  even  when  the  handsome  young 
workman  clasped  Nellie  Sorensen  by  the  waist  and  whirled  her 
round  the  room ;  and  she  owned  that  there  was  music  in  the 
world,  outside  her  little  chapel,  far  sweeter  than  anything  they 
had  within  it.  As  for  Nelly,  she  simply  worshipped.  What- 
ever Miss  Kennedy  did  was  right  and  beautiful  and  perfect  in 
her  eyes ;  nor,  in  her  ignorance  of  the  world,  did  she  ponder 
any  more  over  that  first  diflSculty  of  hers,  why  a  lady,  and  such 
a  lady,  had  come  to  Stepney  Green  to  be  a  dressmaker. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE     TENDER     PASSION. 


It  is  always  a  dangerous  thing  for  two  young  persons  of  op- 
posite sexes  to  live  together  under  the  same  roof,  even  when  the 
lady  is  plain  and  at  first  sight  unattractive,  and  when  the  young 
man  is  stupid.  For  they  get  to  know  one  another.  Now,  so 
great  is  the  beauty  of  human  nature,  even  in  its  second-rate  or 
third-rate  productions,  that  love  generally  follows  when  one  of 
two,  by  confession  or  unconscious  self-betrayal,  stands  revealed 
to  tlie  other.  It  is  not  the  actual  man  or  woman,  you  see,  who 
is  loved — it  is  the  ideal,  the  possible,  the  model  or  type  from 
which  the  specimen  is  copied,  and  which  it  distinctly  resembles. 
But  think  of  the  danger  when  the  house  in  which  these  young 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MBN.  137 

people  find  themselves  is  not  a  large  country-honse,  where  many 
arc  gathered  together  of  like  pursuits,  but  an  obscure  boarding- 
house  in  a  Society-forgotten  suburb,  where  these  two  had  only 
each  other  to  talk  to.  Add  to  this  that  they  are  both  interested 
in  an  experiment  of  the  greatest  delicacy,  in  which  the  least 
false  step  would  be  fatal.  Add,  further,  the  fact  that  each  is 
astonished  at  the  other :  the  one,  to  find  in  a  dressmaker  the  re- 
finement and  all  the  accomplishments  of  a  lady ;  the  other,  to 
find  in  a  cabinet-maker  the  distinguishing  marks  of  a  gentle- 
man ;  the  same  way  of  looking  at  things  and  talking  about 
them  ;  the  same  bearing  and  the  same  courtesy. 

The  danger  was  even  made  greater  by  what  seemed  a  preven- 
tive— namely,  by  the  way  in  which  at  the  beginning  Angela  so 
very  firmly  put  down  her  foot  on  the  subject  of  "  keeping  com- 
pany :"  there  w'as  to  be  no  attempt  at  love-making ;  on  that  un- 
derstanding the  two  could,  and  did,  go  about  together  as  much 
as  they  pleased.  What  followed  naturally  was  that  more  and 
more  they  began  to  consider,  each  the  other,  as  a  problem  of  an 
interesting  character.  Angela  observed  that  the  young  work- 
man, whom  she  had  at  first  considered  of  a  frivolous  disposition, 
seemed  to  bo  growing  more  serious  in  his  views  of  things ;  and 
even  when  he  laughed  there  was  method  in  his  folly.  No  men 
are  so  solemn,  she  reflected,  as  the  dull  of  comprehension ;  per- 
haps the  extremely  serious  character  of  the  place  in  which  they 
lived  was  making  him  dull  too.  It  is  diflScult,  certainly,  for  one 
to  go  on  laughing  at  Stepney  :  the  children,  who  begin  by  laugh- 
ing, like  children  everywhere,  have  to  give  up  the  practice  be- 
fore they  are  eight  years  of  age,  because  the  streets  are  so 
insufferably  dull ;  the  grown-up  people  never  laugh  at  all ;  when 
immigrants  arrive  from  livelier  quarters,  say  Manchester  or 
Sheffield,  after  a  certain  time  of  residence — the  period  varies 
w4th  the  mercurial  temperament  of  the  patient — they  laugh  no 
more.  "  Surely,"  thought  Angela,  "  he  is  settling  down ;  he 
will  soon  find  work ;  he  will  become  like  other  men  of  his  class ; 
and  then,  no  doubt,  he  will  fall  in  love  with  Nelly.  Nothing 
could  be  more  suitable." 

By  saying  to  herself,  over  and  over  again,  that  this  arrange- 
ment should  take  place,  she  had  got  to  persuade  herself  that  it 
certainly  would.  "  Nelly  possessed,"  she  said,  "  that  refinement 
of  manner  and  nature  without  which  the  young  man  would  be 


138  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

wretched ;  she  was  affectionate  and  sensible  ;  it  would  certainly 
do  very  well."  And  she  was  hardly  conscious,  while  she  ar- 
ranged this  in  her  own  head,  of  a  certain  uneasy  feeling  in  her 
mind,  which  in  smaller  creatures  might  have  been  called  jealousy. 

So  far,  there  had  been  little  to  warrant  the  belief  that  things 
were  advancing  in  the  direction  she  desired.  He  was  not  much 
more  attentive  to  Nelly  than  to  any  other  of  her  girls :  worse 
still,  as  she  reflected  with  trepidation,  there  were  many  symp- 
toms by  which  he  showed  a  preference  for  quite  another  person. 

As  for  Ilarry,  it  was  useless  for  him  to  conceal  from  himself 
any  longer  the  fact  that  he  was  by  this  time  head-over-ears  in 
love.  The  situation  offered  greater  temptations  than  his  strength 
could  withstand.  He  succumbed — whatever  the  end  might  be, 
he  was  in  love. 

If  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  this  was  rather  a  remarkable  re- 
sult of  a  descent  into  the  Lower  Regions.  One  expects  to  meet 
in  the  Home  of  Dull  Ugliness  things  repellent,  coarse ;  enjoy- 
ing the  freedom  of  nature  unrestrained,  unconventional.  Ilarry 
found,  on  the  contrary,  the  sweetness  of  Eden,  a  fair  garden  of 
delights,  in  which  sat  a  peerless  lady,  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  a  very 
Venus.  All  his  life — that  is,  since  he  had  begun  to  think  about 
love  at  all — he  had  stoutly  held  and  strenuously  maintained  that 
it  was  lese  majeste,  high-treason,  to  love,  for  a  man  to  throw 
away — he  used  to  say  "  throw  away  " — upon  a  maiden  of  low 
degree  the  passion  which  should  be  offered  to  a  lady — a  demoi- 
selle. The  position  was  certainly  altered,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
no  longer  of  gentle  birth.  Therefore,  he  argued,  he  would  no 
longer  pretend  to  the  hand  of  a  lady.  At  first  he  used  to  make 
resolutions,  as  bravely  as  a  board  of  directors :  he  would  arise 
and  flee  to  the  desert — any  place  would  be  a  desert  without  her : 
he  would  get  out  of  temptation :  he  would  go  back  to  Picca- 
dilly, and  there  forget  her.  Yet  he  remained :  yet  every  day  he 
sought  her  again :  every  day  his  condition  became  more  hope- 
less :  every  day  he  continued  to  walk  with  her,  play  duets  with 
her,  sing  with  her,  dance  with  her,  argue  with  her,  learn  from 
her,  teach  her,  watch  over  her,  and  felt  the  sunshine  of  her  pres- 
ence, and  at  meeting  and  parting  touched  her  fingers. 

She  was  so  well  educated,  he  said,  strengthening  his  faith: 
she  was  so  kindly  and  considerate :  her  manners  were  so  per- 
fect :  she  was  so  beautiful  and  graceful :  she  knew  so  well  how 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  139 

to  command,  that  he  was  constrained  to  own  tliat  no  lady  of  his 
acquaintance  was,  or  could  be,  her  superior.  To  call  her  a  dress- 
maker was  to  ennoble  and  sanctify  the  whole  craft.  She  should 
be  to  that  art  what  Cecilia  was  to  music — its  patron  saint :  she 
should  be  to  himself — yet,  what  would  be  the  end  ?  He  smiled 
grimly,  thinking  there  was  no  need  to  speculate  on  the  end, 
when  as  yet  there  had  been  no  beginning.  He  could  not  make 
a  beginning.  If  he  ventured  on  some  shy  and  modest  tentative 
in  the  direction  of — call  it  an  understanding — she  froze.  She 
Avas  always  on  the  watch :  she  seemed  to  say,  "  Thus  far  you 
may  presume,  but  no  further."  What  did  it  mean  ?  Was  she 
really  resolved  never  to  receive  his  advances  ?  Did  she  dislike 
him  ?  That  could  hardly  be.  Was  she  watching  him  ?  Was 
she  afraid  to  trust  him  ?  That  might  be.  Or  was  she  already 
engaged  to  some  other  fellow — some  superior  fellow — perhaps 
with  a  shop — gracious  heavens  ! — of  his  own  ?  That  might  be, 
though  it  made  him  cold  to  think  it  possible.  Or  did  she  have 
some  past  history,  some  unhappy  complication  of  the  affections, 
which  made  her  as  cold  as  Dian  ?     That,  too,  might  be. 

The  ordinary  young  man,  thrown  into  the  society  of  half  a 
dozen  working-girls,  would  have  begun  to  flirt  and  talk  nonsense 
with  all  of  them  together,  or  with  one  after  the  other.  Harry 
was  not  that  kind  of  a  young  man.  There  is  always,  by  the 
blessing  of  kind  Heaven,  left  unto  us  a  remnant  of  those  who 
hold  woman  sacred,  and  continually  praise,  worship,  and  rever- 
ence the  name  of  love.  He  was  one  of  those  young  men.  To 
flirt  with  a  milliner  did  not  seem  a  delightful  thing  to  him  at 
any  time.  And  in  this  case  there  was  another  reason  why  he 
should  not  behave  in  the  manner  customary  to  the  would-be 
Don  Juan:  it  was  simply /oe  de  gentilhomme ;  he  was  tolerated 
among  them  all  on  a  kind  of  unspoken,  but  understood,  parole. 
Miss  Kennedy  received  him  in  confidence  that  he  would  not 
abuse  her  confidence. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  when  they  were  walking  together — it 
was  in  one  of  the  warm  days  of  last  September — in  Victoria 
Park,  they  had  a  conversation  which  led  to  really  important 
things.  There  are  one  or  two  very  pretty  walks  in  that  gar- 
den, and  though  the  season  was  late,  and  the  leaves  mostly  yel- 
low, brown,  crimson,  or  golden,  there  were  still  flowers,  and  the 
ornamental  water  was  bright,  and  the  path  crowded  with  people 


140  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN. 

who  looked  happy,  because  the  sun  was  shining ;  they  liad  all 
dined  plentifully,  with  copious  beer,  and  the  girls  had  got  on 
their  best  things,  and  the  swains  were  gallant  with  a  flower  in 
the  button-hole  and  a  cigar  between  the  lips.  There  is,  indeed, 
so  little  difference  between  the  rich  and  the  poor:  can  even 
Hyde  Park  in  the  season  go  beyond  the  flower  and  the  cigar  ? 
In  certain  tropical  lands  the  first  step  in  civilization  is  to  buy  a 
mosquito-curtain,  though  your  dusky  epidermis  is  as  impervious 
as  a  crocodile's  to  the  sting  of  a  mosquito.  In  this  realm  of 
England  the  first  step  towards  gentility  is  the  twopenny  smoke, 
to  which  we  cling,  though  it  is  made  of  medicated  cabbage, 
though  it  makes  the  mouth  raw,  the  tongue  sore,  the  lips 
cracked,  the  eyes  red,  the  nerves  shaky,  and  the  temper  short. 
Who  would  not  suffer  in  such  a  cause  ? 

It  began  with  a  remark  of  Angela's  about  his  continued  lazi- 
ness. He  replied  evasively  that  he  had  intended  to  take  a  long 
holiday,  in  order  to  look  around  and  consider  what  was  best  to 
be  done ;  that  he  liked  holidays ;  that  he  meant  to  introduce 
holidays  into  the  next  trade  dispute ;  that  his  holidays  enabled 
him  to  work  a  little  for  Miss  Kennedy,  without  counting  his 
lordship,  whose  case  he  had  now  drawn  up ;  that  he  was  now 
ready  for  work  whenever,  he  added  airily,  work  was  ready  for 
him ;  and  that  he  was  not,  in  fact,  quite  sure  that  Stepney  and 
its  neighborhood  would  prove  the  best  place  for  him  to  work 
out  his  life. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Angela,  "  that  it  would  be  as  good  a 
place  as  any  you  would  find  in  America." 

"  If  you  tell  me  to  stay.  Miss  Kennedy,"  he  replied,  with  a 
sudden  earnestness,  "  I  will  stay." 

She  instantly  froze,  and  chillingly  said  that  if  his  interests 
required  him  to  go,  of  course  he  would  go. 

Therefore  Harry,  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  during  which 
he  battled  with  the  temptation  to  "have  it  out"  there  and  then, 
before  all  the  happy  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  of  Bethnal 
Green,  returned  to  his  original  form,  and  made  as  if  those  words 
had  not  been  spoken  and  that  effect  not  been  produced.  You 
may  notice  the  same  thing  with  children  who  have  been  scolded. 

"  Did  you  ever  consider.  Miss  Kennedy,  the  truly  happy  con- 
dition of  the  perfect  cabinet-maker  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  never  did.     Is  he  happy  above  his  fellows  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  141 

"  Your  questions  betray  your  ignorance.  Till  lately — till  I 
returned  from  America — I  never  wholly  realized  what  a  superior 
creature  he  is.  Why,  in  the  first  place,  the  cabinet-maker  is 
perhaps  the  only  workman  who  never  scamps  his  work ;  he  is  a 
responsible  man ;  he  takes  pride  in  producing  a  good  and  hon- 
est thing.  "VVe  have  no  tricks  in  our  trade.  Then,  if  you  care 
to  hear — ^" 

"  Pray  go  on  ;  let  me  learn  all  I  can." 

"  Then,  we  were  the  first  to  organize  ourselves.  Our  society 
was  founded  eighty  years  ago.  We  had  no  foolish  strike,  but 
we  just  met  the  employers  and  told  them  we  were  going  to  ar- 
range with  them  what  our  share  should  be ;  and  we  made  a 
book  about  wages — I  do  not  think  so  good  a  book  has  been  put 
together  this  century.  Then,  we  arc  a  respectable  lot:  you 
never  hear  of  a  cabinet-maker  in  trouble  at  a  police-court ;  very 
few  of  us  get  drunk ;  most  of  us  read  books  and  papers,  and 
have  opinions.  My  Cousin  Dick  has  very  strong  opinions.  We 
are  critical  about  amusements,  and  we  prefer  Henry  Irving  to  a 
music-hall ;  we  do  not  allow  rough  talk  in  the  workshops ;  we 
are  mostly  members  of  some  church,  and  we  know  how  to  value 
ourselves." 

"  I  shall  know  how  to  value  your  craft  in  future,"  said  Ange- 
la, "  especially  when  you  are  working  again." 

"  Yes.  I  do  not  want  to  work  in  a  shop,  you  know  ;  but  one 
may  get  a  place,  perhaps,  in  one  of  the  railway-carriage  depots, 
or  a  hotel,  or  a  big  factory,  where  they  always  keep  a  cabinet- 
maker in  regular  pay.  My  Cousin  Dick — Dick  the  Radical — is 
cabinet-maker  in  a  mangle-factory.  I  do  not  know  what  he 
makes  for  his  mangles,  but  that  is  what  he  is." 

"  I  have  seen  your  Cousin  Tom,  when  he  was  rolled  in  the 
mud  and  before  he  led  off  the  hymn  and  the  procession.  You 
must  bring  me  your  Cousin  Dick." 

"  Dick  is  better  fun  than  Tom.  Both  are  terribly  in  earnest ; 
but  you  will  find  Dick  interesting." 

"  Does  he  walk  about  on  Sunday  afternoons  ?  Should  we  be 
likely  to  meet  him  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  Dick  is  forging  his  speech  for  to-night.  He  ad- 
dresses the  Advanced  Club  almost  every  Sunday  evening  on  the 
House  of  Lords,  on  the  Church,  or  the  Country  Bumpkin's  Suf- 
frage, or  the  Cape  question,  or  Protection,  or  the  Nihilists,  or 


142  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Ireland,  or  America,  or  something.  The  speech  must  be  red- 
hot,  or  his  reputation  would  be  lost.  So  he  spends  the  after- 
noon sticking  it  into  the  furnace,  so  to  speak.  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter what  the  subject  is,  always  provided  that  he  can  lug  in  the 
bloated  aristocrat  and  the  hated  Tory.  I  assure  you  Dick  is  a 
most  interesting  person." 

"  Do  you  ever  speak  at  the  Advanced  Club  ?" 

"I  go  there;  I  am  not  a  member;  now  and  then  I  say  a 
word.  When  a  member  makes  a  red-hot  speech,  brimful  of  in- 
sane accusations,  and  sits  down  amid  a  round  of  applause,  it  is 
pleasant  to  get  up  and  set  hini  right  on  matters  of  fact,  because 
all  the  enthusiasm  is  killed  when  you  come  to  facts.  Some  of 
them  do  not  love  me  at  the  club." 

"  They  are  real  and  in  earnest,  while  you — " 

"  No,  Miss  Kennedy,  they  are  not  real,  whatever  I  may  be. 
They  are  quite  conventional.  The  people  like  to  be  roused  by 
red-hot,  scorching  speeches ;  they  want  burning  questions,  in- 
tolerable  grievances ;  so  the  speakers  find  them  or  invent  them. 
As  for  the  audience,  they  have  had  so  many  sham  grievances 
told  in  red-hot  words  that  they  have  become  callous,  and  don't 
know  of  any  real  ones.  The  indignation  of  the  speakers  is  a 
sham ;  the  enthusiasm  of  the  listeners  is  a  sham ;  they  applaud 
the  eloquence,  but  as  for  the  stuff  that  is  said  it  moves  them 
not.  As  for  his  politics,  the  British  workman  has  got  a  vague 
idea  that  things  go  better  for  him  under  the  Liberals.  When 
the  Liberals  come  in,  after  making  promises  by  the  thousand, 
and  when,  like  their  predecessors,  they  have  made  the  usual 
mess,  confidence  is  shaken.  Then  he  allows  the  Conservatives, 
who  do  not,  at  all  events,  promise  oranges  and  beer  all  round, 
back  again,  and  gives  them  another  show.  As  if  it  matters 
which  side  is  in  to  the  British  workman !" 

"  And  they  are  not  discontented,"  asked  Angela,  "  with  their 
own  lives  ?" 

"  Not  one  bit.  They  don't  want  to  change  their  own  lives. 
Why  should  they  ?" 

"  All  these  people  in  the  park  to-day."  she  continued,  "  are 
these  workingmen  ?" 

"  Yes ;  some  of  them :  the  better  sort.  Of  course  " — Harry 
looked  around  and  surveyed  the  crowd — "  of  course,  when  you 
open  a  garden  of  this  sort  for  the  people,  the  well-dressed  come 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  143 

and  the  ragged  stay  away  and  hide.  There  is  plenty  of  ragged 
stuff  around  and  about  us,  but  it  hides.  And  there  is  plenty  of 
comfort  which  walks  abroad  and  shows  itself.  This  end  of 
London  is  the  home  of  little  industries.  Here,  for  instance, 
they  make  the  things  which  belong  to  other  things." 

"  That  seems  a  riddle,"  said  Angela. 

"  I  mean  things  like  card-boxes,  pill-boxes,  ornamental  boxes 
of  all  kinds,  for  confectioners,  druggists,  and  drapers ;  they 
make  all  kinds  of  such  things  for  wholesale  houses.  Why, 
there  are  hundreds  of  trades  in  this  great,  neglected  city  of  East 
London  of  which  we  know  nothing.  You  see  the  manufactu- 
rers. Here  they  are,  with  their  wives  and  their  sons  and  their 
daughters :  they  all  lend  a  hand,  and  between  them  the  thing  is 
made." 

"  And  are  they  discontented  ?"  asked  Angela,  with  persistence. 

"  Not  they :  they  get  as  much  happiness  as  the  money  will 
run  to.  At  the  same  time,  if  the  Palace  of  Delight  were  once 
built—" 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Angela,  with  a  sigh.  "  The  Palace  of  Delight, 
the  Palace  of  Delight :  we  must  have  it,  if  it  is  only  to  make 
the  people  discontented." 

They  walked  home  presently,  and  in  the  evening  they  played 
together,  one  or  two  of  the  girls  being  present,  in  the  "  draw- 
ing-room." The  music  softens :  Angela  repented  her  coldness 
of  the  afternoon.  When  the  girls  were  gone,  and  they  were 
walking  side  by  side  beneath  moonlight  on  the  quiet  green,  she 
made,  shyly,  a  little  attempt  at  compensation. 

"  If,"  she  said,  "  you  should  find  work  here  in  Stepney,  you 
would  be  willing  to  stay  ?" 

"  I  would  stay,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  bid  me  stay — or  go,  if 
you  bid  me  go," 

"  I  would  bid  you  stay,"  she  replied,  speaking  as  clearly  and 
as  firmly  as  she  could,  "  because  I  like  your  society,  and  because 
you  have  been,  and  will  still  be,  I  hope,  very  helpful  to  us.  But 
if  I  bid  you  stay,"  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  it  must  be 
on  no  misunderstanding." 

"  I  am  your  servant,"  he  said,  with  a  little  agitation  in  his 
voice.  "  I  understand  nothing  but  what  you  wish  me  to  under- 
stand." 


144  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A     SPLENDID     OFFER. 

It  was  a  strange  coincidence  that,  only  two  days  after  this 
conversation  with  Miss  Kennedy,  Harry  received  his  first  offer 
of  employment. 

It  came  from  the  Brewery,  and  was  in  the  first  instance  a 
mere  note  sent  by  a  clerk,  inviting  "  H.  Goslett "  to  call  at  the 
accountant's  office  at  ten  in  the  morning.  The  name,  standing 
bare  and  naked  by  itself,  without  any  preliminary  title  of  re- 
spect— Mister,  Master,  or  Sieur — presented,  Harry  thought,  a 
very  miserable  appearance.  Perhaps  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  readier  method  of  insulting  a  man  than  to  hurl  his  own 
name  at  his  head.  One  may  understand  how  Louis  Capet  must 
have  felt  when  thus  reduced  to  a  plain  simplicity. 

"  What  on  earth,"  ll;ury  asked,  forgetting  his  trade,  "  can 
they  want  with  me  ?" 

In  business  houses,  workingmen,  even  of  the  gentle  craft  of 
cabinet-making,  generally  carry  with  them  tools,  sometimes  wear 
an  apron,  always  have  their  trousers  turned  up,  and  never  wear 
a  collar — using,  instead,  a  red  muffler,  which  keeps  the  throat 
warmer,  and  does  not  so  readily  show  the  effects  of  London  fog 
and  smoke.  Also  some  of  their  garments  are  sometimes  made 
of  corduroy,  and  their  jackets  have  bulging  pockets,  and  their 
hats  not  unfrequcntly  have  a  pipe  stuck  into  them.  This  young 
workingman  repaired  to  the  trysting-place  in  the  easy  attire  in 
which  he  was  wont  to  roam  about  the  bowers  of  the  East  End. 
That  is  to  say,  he  looked  like  a  carelessly  dressed  gentleman. 

Harry  found  at  the  office  his  uncle,  Mr.  Bunker,  who  snorted 
when  he  saw  his  nephew. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he  asked.  "  Can't  you  waste 
your  time  and  bring  disgrace  on  a  hard-working  uncle  outside 
the  place  where  he  is  known  and  respected  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  145 

Harry  sighed. 
.  "  Few  of  us,"  he  said,  "  sufficiently  respect  their  uncles.     And 
with  such  an  uncle — ah  !" 

What  more  might  have  passed  between  them  I  know  not. 
Fortunately,  at  this  point  they  were  summoned  to  the  presence 
of  the  chief  accountant. 

lie  knew  Mr.  Bunker  and  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  Is  this  your  nephew,  Mr.  Bunker  ?"  he  asked,  looking  curi- 
ously at  the  very  handsome  young  fellow  who  stood  before  him 
with  a  careless  air. 

"  Yes ;  he's  my  nephew ;  at  least  he  says  so,"  said  Mr.  Bun- 
ker, surlily.  "  Perhaps,  sir,  you  wouldn't  mind  telling  him  what 
you  want,  and  letting  him  go.     Then  we  can  get  to  business." 

"  My  business  is  with  both  of  you." 

"  Both  of  us  ?"  Mr.  Bunker  looked  uneasy.  What  business 
could  that  be  in  which  he  was  connected  with  his  nepheW|2 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  read  a  portion  of  a  letter  received  by 
me  yesterday  from  Miss  Messenger.  That  portion  which  con- 
cerns you,  Mr.  Bunker,  is  as  follows." 

Kather  a  remarkable  letter  had  been  received  at  the  Brewery 
on  the  previous  day  from  Miss  Messenger.  It  was  remarkable, 
and  indeed  disquieting,  because  it  showed  a  disposition  to  inter- 
fere in  the  management  of  the  great  concern,  and  the  interfer- 
ence of  a  young  lady  in  the  Brewery  boded  ill. 

The  chief  brewer  and  the  chief  accountant  read  it  together. 
They  were  a  grave  and  elderly  pair,  both  in  their  sixties,  who 
had  been  regarded  by  the  late  Mr.  Messenger  as  mere  boys.  For 
he  was  in  the  eighties. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  chief  brewer,  as  his  colleague  read  the  mis- 
sive with  a  sigh,  "  I  know  what  you  would  say.  It  is  not  the 
thing  itself ;  the  thing  is  a  small  thing ;  the  man  may  even  be 
worth  his  pay ;  but  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  letter,  the  spirit,  that 
concerns  me." 

"  It  is  the  spirit,"  echoed  the  chief  accountant. 

"  Either,"  said  the  chief  brewer,  "  we  rule  here,  or  we  do  not." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  chief  accountant,  "  and  well  put." 

"  If  we  do  not " — here  the  chief  brewer  rapped  the  middle 
knuckle  of  the  back  of  his  left-hand  forefinger  with  the  tip  of 
his  right-hand  forefinger — "  if  Ave  do  not,  what  then  ?" 

They  gazed  upon  each  other  for  a  few  moments  in  great  sad- 
7 


140  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

ness,  liaving  before  their  eyes  a  hazy  vision,  in  which  Miss  Mes- 
senger walked  through  the  Brewery,  putting  down  the  mighty 
and  lowering  salaries.  A  grateful  reward  for  long  and  faithful 
services !  At  the  thought  of  it,  these  two  servants  iu  their  own 
eyes  became  patriarchal,  as  regards  the  length  of  years  spent  in 
the  Brewery,  and  their  long  services  loomed  up  before  them 
above  the  rewarding  power  of  any  salary. 

The  chief  accountant  was  a  tall  old  gentleman,  and  he  stood 
in  a  commanding  position  on  the  hearth-rug,  the  letter  in  one 
hand  and  a  pair  of  double  eyeglasses  in  the  other. 

"You  will  see  from  what  I  am  about  to  read  to  you,  Mr. 
Bunker,"  he  began,  "  that  your  services,  such  as  they  were,  to 
the  late  Mr.  Messenger,  will  not  go  unrewarded." 

Very  good,  so  far ;  but  what  had  his  reward  to  do  with  his 
neph<yy  ? 

"  You  were  a  good  deal  with  Mr.  Messenger  at  one  time,  I  re- 
member, Mr.  Bunker." 

"  I  was  ;  a  great  deal." 

"  Quite  so — quite  so ;  and  you  assisted  him,  I  believe,  with 
his  house  property,  and  tenants,  and  so  forth." 

"  I  did."  Mr.  Bunker  cleared  his  throat.  "  I  did,  and  often 
Mr.  Messenger  would  talk  of  the  reward  I  was  to  have  when  he 
was  took." 

"  He  left  you  nothing,  however ;  possibly  because  he  forgot. 
You  ought,  therefore  to  be  the  more  grateful  to  Miss  Messenger 
for  remembering  you ;  particularly  as  the  young  lady  has  only 
heard  of  you  by  some  kind  of  chance." 

"  Has  she — has  she — sent  something  ?"  he  asked. 

The  chief  accountant  smiled  graciously. 

"  She  has  sent  a  very  considerable  present  indeed." 

"  Ah  !"  Mr.  Bunker's  fingers  closed  as  if  they  were  grappling 
with  bank-notes. 

"  Is  it,"  he  asked,  in  trembling  accents — "  is  it»a  check  ?" 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Bunker,  you  will  like  her  present  better  than  a 
check." 

"  There  can  be  nothing  better  than  one  of  Miss  Messenger's 
cliccks,"  he  replied,  gallantly.  "  Nothing  in  the  world,  except 
one  that's  bigger.     I  suppose  it's  notes  then  ?" 

"  Listen,  Mr.  Bunker : 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  147 

"  *  Considering  the  various  services  rendered  to  my  grandfa- 
ther by  Mr.  Bunker,  with  whom,  I  believe,  you  are  acquainted, 
in  connection  with  his  property  in  Stepney  and  the  neighbor- 
hood, I  am  anxious  to  make  him  some  substantial  present.  I 
have,  therefore,  caused  inquiries  to  be  made  as  to  the  best  way 
of  doing  this.  I  learn  that  he  has  a  nephew  named  Henry  Gos- 
lett,  by  trade  a  cabinet-maker  '  " — here  Mr.  Bunker  made  violent 
efforts  to  suppress  emotion — "  '  who  is  out  of  employment.  I 
propose  that  he  should  be  received  into  the  Brewery ;  that  a 
shop  with  all  that  he  wants  should  be  fitted  up  for  him,  and 
that  he  attend  daily  until  anything  better  offers,  to  do  all  that 
may  be  required  in  his  trade.  I  should  wish  him  to  be  inde- 
pendent as  regards  time  of  attendance,  aiid  that  he  should  be 
paid  at  the  proper  rate  for  piece-work.  In  this  way,  I  hope  Mr. 
Bunker  may  feel  that  he  has  received  a  reward  more  appropri- 
ate to  the  friendly  relations  which  seem  to  have  existed  between 
my  grandfather  and  himself  than  a  mere  matter  of  money,  and 
I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  gratify  him  in  finding  honorable  employ- 
ment for  one  who  is,  I  trust,  a  deserving  young  man.' 

"  Then,  Mr.  Bunker,  there  is  this — why,  good  heavens !  man, 
what  is  the  matter  ?" 

For  Mr.  Bunker  was  purple  with  wrath.  Three  times  he  es- 
sayed to  speak,  three  times  he  failed.  Then  he  put  on  his  hat 
and  fled  precipitately. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?"  asked  the  chief  accountant. 

The  young  workman  laughed. 

"  I  believe,"  he  replied,  "  that  my  uncle  expected  the  check." 

"  "Well,  well !" — the  chief  accountant  waved  his  hand.  "  There 
is  nothing  more  to  be  said.  You  will  find  your  shop ;  one  of 
the  porters  will  take  you  to  it;  you  will  have  all  the  broken 
things,  that  used  to  be  sent  out,  kept  for  you  to  mend,  and — 
and — all  that.  What  we  want  a  cabinet-maker  for  in  the  Brew- 
ery I  do  not  understand.  That  will  do.  Stay — you  seem  a 
rather  superior  kind  of  workman." 

"  I  have  had  an  education,"  said  Ilarry,  blushing. 

"  Good ;  so  long  as  it  has  not  made  you  discontented.  Re- 
member that  we  want  sober  and  steady  men  in  this  place,  and 
good  work." 

"  I  am  not  certain  yet,"  said  Harry,  *'  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
take  the  place." 


148  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

"  Not  take  the  place  ?  Not  take  a  place  in  Messenger's 
Brewery  ?  Do  you  know  that  everybody  who  conducts  himself 
well  here  is  booked  for  life  ?  Do  you  know  what  you  are  throw- 
ing away  ?  Not  take  the  place  ?  AVhy,  you  may  be  cabinet- 
maker for  the  Brewery  till  they  actually  pension  you  off." 

"I  am — I  am  a  little  uncertain  about  my  designs  for  the 
future.     I  must  ask  a  day  to  consider." 

''  Take  a  day.  If,  to-morrow,  you  do  not  present  yourself  in 
the  workshop  prepared  for  you,  I  shall  tell  Miss  Messenger  that 
you  have  refused  her  offer." 

Harry  walked  away  with  a  quickened  pulse.  So  far,  he  had 
been  posturing  only  as  a  cabinet-maker.  At  the  outset,  he  had 
no  intention  of  doing  more  than  posture  for  a  while,  and  then 
go  back  to  civilized  life  with  no  more  difference  than  that  caused 
by  the  revelation  of  his  parentage.  As  for  doing  work,  or  tak- 
ing a  wage,  that  was  very,  very  far  from  his  mind.  Yet  now  he 
must  either  accept  the  place,  with  the  pay,  or  he  must  stand 
confessed  a  humbug.  There  remained  but  one  other  way, 
which  was  a  worse  way  than  the  other  two.  He  might,  that  is 
to  say,  refuse  the  work  without  assigning  any  reason.  He  would 
then  appear  in  the  character  of  a  lazy  and  worthless  workman — 
an  idle  apprentice,  indeed ;  one  who  would  do  no  work  while 
there  was  money  in  the  locker  for  another  day  of  sloth.  With 
what  face  would  he  stand  before  Miss  Kennedy,  revealed  in 
these,  his  true  colors? 

It  was  an  excellent  opportunity  for  flight.  That  occurred  to 
him.  But  flight — and  after  that  last  talk  with  the  woman  whose 
voice,  whose  face,  whose  graciousness  had  so  filled  his  head  and 
inflamed  his  imagination. 

He  walked  away,  considering. 

When  a  man  is  very  much  perplexed,  he  often  does  a  great 
many  little  odd  things.  Thus,  Harry  began  by  looking  into  the 
office  where  his  cousin  sat. 

Josephus's  desk  was  in  the  warmest  part  of  the  room,  near 
tlie  fire — so  much  promotion  he  had  received.  He  sat  among 
half  a  dozen  lads  of  seventeen  or  twenty  years  of  age,  who  did 
the  mechanical  work  of  making  entries  in  the  books.  This  he 
did,  too,  and  had  done  every  day  for  forty  years.  Beside  him 
stood  a  great  iron  safe  where  the  books  were  put  away  at  night. 
The  door  was  open.     Harry  looked  in,  caught  the  eye  of  liis 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  149 

consin,  nodded  encouragingly,  and  went  on  his  way,  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

When  he  came  to  Mrs.  Bormalack's,  he  went  in  there,  too, 
and  found  Lord  Davenant  anxiously  waiting  for  the  conduct  of 
the  case  to  be  resumed,  in  order  that  he  might  put  up  his  feet 
and  take  his  morning  nap. 

"  This  is  my  last  morning,"  Harry  said.  "  As  for  your  case, 
old  boy,  it  is  as  complete  as  I  can  make  it,  and  we  had  better 
send  it  in  as  soon  as  we  can,  unless  you  can  find  any  more  evi- 
dence." 

"  No« — no,"  said  his  lordship,  who  found  this  familiarity  a  re- 
lief after  the  stately  enjoyment  of  the  title,  "  there  will  be  no 
more  evidence.  Well,  if  there's  nothing  more  to  be  done,  Mr. 
Goslett,  I  think  I  will " — here  he  lifted  his  feet — "  and  if  you 
see  Clara  Martha,  tell  her  that — that — " 

Here  ho  fell  asleep. 

It  was  against  the  rules  to  visit  the  Dressmakers'  Association 
in  the  morning  or  afternoon.  Harry  therefore  went  to  the  room 
where  he  had  fitted  his  lathe,  and  began  to  occupy  himself  with 
the  beautiful  cabinet  he  was  making  for  Miss  Kennedy.  But 
he  was  restless:  he  was  on  the  eve  of  a  very  important  step. 
To  take  a  place — to  be  actually  paid  for  piece-work — is,  if 
you  please,  a  very  different  thing  from  pretending  to  have  a 
trade. 

Was  he  prepared  to  give  up  the  life  of  culture  ? 

He  sat  down  and  thought  what  such  a  surrender  would  mean  ? 

First,  there  would  be  no  club :  none  of  the  pleasant  dinners 
at  the  little  tables  with  one  or  two  of  his  own  friends :  no  easy- 
chair  in  the  smoking-room  for  a  wet  afternoon :  none  of  the  talk 
with  men  who  are  actually  in  the  ring — political,  literary,  artis- 
tic, and  dramatic :  none  of  the  pleasant  consciousness  that  you 
are  behind  the  scenes,  which  is  enjoyed  by  so  many  young  fel- 
lows who  belong  to  good  clubs.  The  club  in  itself  would  be  ?» 
great  thing  to  surrender. 

Next,  there  would  be  no  society. 

He  was  at  that  age  when  society  means  the  presence  of  beau- 
tiful girls  :  therefore  he  loved  society,  whether  in  the  form  of  a 
dance,  or  a  dinner,  or  an  at-home,  or  an  afternoon,  or  a  garden- 
party,  or  any  other  gathering  where  young  people  meet  and  ex- 
change those  ideas  which  they  fondly  imagine  to  be  original 


150  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Well:  he  mu?t  never  think  any  more  of  society.  That  was 
closed  to  him. 

Next,  he  must  give  up  most  of  the  accomplishments,  graces, 
arts,  and  skill  which  he  had  acquired  by  dint  of  great  assiduity 
and  much  practice.  Billiards,  at  which  he  could  hold  his  own 
against  most ;  fencing,  at  which  he  was  capable  of  becoming  a 
professor;  shooting,  in  which  he  was  ready  to  challenge  any 
American ;  riding ;  the  talking  of  different  languages — what 
would  it  help  him  now  to  be  a  master  in  these  arts?  They 
must  all  go ;  for  the  future  he  would  have  to  work  nine  hours  a 
day  for  tenpence  an  hour,  which  is  two  pounds  a  week,  allowing 
for  Saturday  afternoon.  There  would  simply  be  no  time  for 
practising  any  single  one  of  these  things,  even  if  he  could  afford 
the  purchase  of  the  instruments  required. 

Again :  he  would  have  to  grieve  and  disappoint  the  kindest 
man  in  the  whole  world — Lord  Jocelyn. 

I  think  it  speaks  well  for  this  young  man  that  one  thing  did 
not  trouble  him — the  question  of  eating  and  drinking.  He 
would  dine  no  more  :  workingmen  do  not  dine ;  they  stoke.  He 
would  drink  no  more  wine :  well,  Harry  found  beer  a  most  ex- 
cellent and  delicious  beverage,  particularly  when  you  get  it  una- 
dulterated. 

Could  he  give  up  all  these  things  ?  He  could  not  conceive  it 
possible,  you  see,  that  a  man  should  go  and  become  a  workman, 
receiving  a  wage  and  obeying  orders,  and  afterwards  resume  his 
old  place  among  gentlemen,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  In- 
deed, it  would  require  a  vast  amount  of  explanation. 

Then  he  began  to  consider  what  he  would  get  if  he  remained. 

One  thing  only  would  reward  him.  He  was  so  far  gone  in 
love  that  for  this  girl's  sake  he  would  renounce  everything  and 
become  a  workman  indeed. 

He  could  not  work ;  the  quiet  of  the  room  oppressed  him :  he 
must  be  up  and  moving  while  this  struggle  went  on. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  uncle  Bunker  and  laughed,  remem- 
bering his  discomfiture  and  wrath.  While  he  was  laughing  the 
door  opened,  and  the  very  man  appeared. 

He  had  lost  his  purple  hue,  and  was  now,  in  fact,  rather  pale, 
and  his  cheeks  looked  flabby. 

"  Nephew,"  he  said,  huskily,  '•  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
this  thing  ;  give  over  sniggerin',  and  talk  Serious  now." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  161 

"  Let  us  be  serious." 

"  This  is  a  most  dreadful  mistake  of  Miss  Messenger's :  you 
know  at  first  I  thought  it  must  be  a  joke.  That  was  why  I  went 
away ;  men  of  my  age  and  respectability  don't  like  jokes.  But 
it  was  no  joke.  I  see  now  it  Avas  just  a  mere  dreadful  mistake, 
which  you  can  set  right." 

"  How  can  I  set  it  right  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,  I  could  do  it  myself,  very  easily.  I  have  only 
got  to  write  to  her,  and  tell  her  that  you've  got  no  character, 
and  nobody  knows  if  you  know  your  trade." 

"  I  don't  think  that  would  do,  because  I  might  write  as  well — " 

"  The  best  plan  would  be  for  you  to  refuse  the  situation  and 
go  away  again.  Look  here,  boy  ;  you  come  from  no  one  knows 
where ;  you  live  no  one  knows  how ;  you  don't  do  any  work ; 
my  impression  is  you  don't  want  any,  and  you've  only  come  to 
see  what  you  can  borrow  or  steal.  That's  my  opinion.  Now, 
don't  let's  argue,  but  just  listen.  If  you'll  go  away  quietly, 
without  any  fuss,  just  telling  them  at  the  Brewery  that  you've 
got  to  go,  I'll  give  you — yes — I'll  give  you — twenty  pounds 
down !     There  !" 

**  Very  liberal  indeed  !     But  I  am  afraid — " 

"  I'll  make  it  twenty-five.  A  man  of  spirit  can  do  anything 
with  twenty-five  pounds  down.  Why,  he  might  go  to  the  other 
end  of  the  world.  If  I  were  you  I'd  go  there.  Large  openings 
there  for  a  lad  of  spirit — large  openings !  Twenty-five  pounds 
down,  on  the  nail." 

"  It  seems  a  generous  offer,  still — " 

"  Nothing,"  Mr.  Bunker  went  on,  "  has  gone  well  since  you 
came.  There's  this  dreadful  mistake  of  Miss  Messenger's ;  then 
that  Miss  Kennedy's  job.  I  didn't  make  anything  out  of  that 
compared  with  what  I  might,  and  there's  the — "  He  stopped 
because  he  was  thinking  of  the  houses. 

"  I  want  you  to  go,"  he  added,  almost  plaintively. 

"  And  that,  very  much,  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  want  to 
stay.  Because,  you  see,  you  have  not  yet  answered  a  question 
of  mine.    What  did  you  get  for  me  when  you  traded  me  away  ?" 

For  the  second  time  his  question  produced  a  very  remarkable 
effect  upon  the  good  man. 

When  he  had  gone,  slamming  the  door  behind  him,  Harry 
smiled  sweetly. 
L 


152  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEW.      . 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  he  has  done  *  something,'  as  they 
call  it.  Bunker  is  afraid.  And  I — yes — I  shall  find  it  out  and 
terrify  him  still  more.  But,  in  order  to  find  it  out,  I  must  stay. 
And  if  I  stay,  I  must  be  a  workman.  And  wear  an  apron  !  And 
a  brown-paper  cap !  No.  I  draw  the  line  above  aprons.  No 
consideration  shall  induce  me  to  wear  an  apron.  Not  even — no 
— not  if  she  were  to  make  the  apron  a  condition  of  marriage." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

harry's   decision. 


He  spent  the  afternoon  wandering  about  the  streets  of  Step- 
ney, full  of  the  new  thought  that  here .  might  be  his  future 
home.  This  reflection  made  him  regard  the  place  from  quite  a 
novel  point  of  view.  As  a  mere  outsider,  he  had  looked  upon 
the  place  critically,  with  amusement,  with  pity,  with  horror  (in 
rainy  weather),  with  wonder  (in  sunshiny  days).  He  was  a  spec- 
tator, while  before  his  eyes  were  played  as  many  little  comedies, 
comediettas,  or  tragedies,  or  melodramas  as  there  were  inhab- 
itants. But  no  farces,  he  remarked,  and  no  burlesques.  The 
life  of  industry  contains  no  elements  of  farce  or  of  burlesque. 
But  if  he  took  this  decisive  step  he  would  have  to  look  upon  the 
East  End  from  an  inside  point  of  view :  he  would  be  himself 
one  of  the  actors ;  he  would  play  his  own  little  comedy.  There- 
fore he  must  introduce  the  emotion  of  sympathy,  and  suppress 
the  critical  attitude  altogether. 

There  was  once  an  earl  who  went  away  and  became  a  sailor 
before  the  mast ;  he  seems  to  have  enjoyed  sailoring  better  than 
legislating,  but  was,  by  accident,  ingloriously  drowned  while  so 
engaged.  There  was  also  the  Honorable  Timothy  Clitheroe 
Davcnant,  who  was  also  supposed  to  be  drowned,  but  in  reality 
exercised  until  his  death,  and  apparently  with  happiness,  the 
craft  of  wheelwright.  There  was  another  unfortunate  nobleman 
well  known  to  fame,  who  became  a  butcher  in  a  colony,  and 
liked  it.  Precedents  enough  of  voluntary  descent  and  eclipse, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  involuntary  obscurations,  as  when  an  emi- 
gre had  to  teach  dancing,  or  the  son  of  a  royal  duke  was  fain  to 
become  a  village  schoolmaster.    These  historical  parallels  pleased 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  163 

Harry's  fancy  until  he  recollected  that  he  was  himself  only  a  son 
of  the  people,  and  not  of  noble  descent,  so  that  they  really  did 
not  bear  upon  his  case,  and  he  could  find  not  one  single  prece- 
dent in  the  whole  of  history  parallel  with  himself.  "  Mine,"  he 
said,  formulating  the  thing,  "  is  a  very  remarkable  and  unusual 
case.  Here  is  a  man  brought  up  to  believe  himself  of  gentle 
birth,  and  educated  as  a  gentleman,  so  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  most  liberal  training  of  a  gentleman  that  he  has  not  learned, 
and  no  accomplishment  which  becomes  a  gentleman  that  he  has 
not  acquired.  Then  he  learns  that  he  is  not  a  gentleman  by 
birth,  and  that  he  is  a  pauper ;  wherefore,  why  not  honest  work  ? 
Work  is  noble,  to  be  sure,  especially  if  you  get  the  kind  of 
work  you  like,  and  please  yourself  about  the  time  of  doing  it. 
Nothing  could  be  a  more  noble  spectacle  than  that  of  myself 
working  at  a  lathe  for  nothing,  in  the  old  days ;  would  it  be 
quite  as  noble  at  the  Brewery,  doing  piece-work  ?" 

These  reflections,  this  putting  of  the  case  to  himself,  this 
grand  dubiety,  occupied  the  whole  afternoon.  AVhen  the  even- 
ing came,  and  it  was  time  for  him  to  present  himself  in  the 
drawing-room,  he  was  no  further  advanced  towards  a  decision. 

The  room  looked  bright  and  restful ;  wherever  Angela  went, 
she  was  accompanied  and  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  re- 
finement. Those  who  conversed  with  her  became  infected  with 
her  culture ;  therefore  the  place  was  like  any  drawing-room  in 
the  West  End,  save  for  the  furniture,  which  was  simple.  Ladies 
would  have  noticed,  even  in  such  little  things,  in  the  way  in 
which  the  girls  sat  and  carried  themselves,  a  note  of  diflEerence. 
To  Harry  these  minutiae  were  unknown,  and  he  saw  only  a  room 
full  of  girls  quietly  happy,  and  apparently  well-bred ;  some  were 
reading ;  some  were  talking ;  one  or  two  were  "  making  "  some- 
thing for  themselves,  though  their  busy  fingers  had  been  at  work 
all  day.  Nelly  and  Miss  Kennedy  were  listening  to  the  captain, 
who  was  telling  a  yarn  of  his  old  East-Indiaman.  The  three 
made  a  pretty  group,  Miss  Kennedy  seated  on  a  low  stool,  at 
the  captain's  knee,  while  the  old  man  leaned  forward  in  his  arm- 
chair, his  daughter  beside  him  watching,  in  her  affectionate  and 
pretty  way,  the  face  of  her  patron. 

The  quiet,  peaceful  air  of  the  room,  the  happy  and  contented 
faces  which  before  had  been  so  harassed  and  worn,  struck  the 
young  man's  heart.  Part  of  this  had  been  his  doing ;  could  he 
7* 


154  ALL    BOUTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

go  away  and  leave  the  br&ve  girl  who  headed  the  little  enter' 
prise  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  Bunker  I  The  thought  of  what 
he  was  throwing  up — the  club  life,  the  art  life,  the  literary  life, 
the  holiday  time,  the  delightful  roving  in  foreign  lands,  which 
he  should  enjoy  no  more — all  seemed  insignificant,  considered 
beside  this  haven  of  rest  and  peace  in  the  troubled  waters  of 
the  East  End.  He  was  no  philanthropist ;  the  cant  of  platforms 
was  intolerable  to  him ;  yet  he  was  thinking  of  a  step  which 
meant  giving  up  his  own  happiness  for  that  of  others :  with,  of 
course,  the  constant  society  of  the  woman  he  loved.  Without 
that  compensation  the  sacrifice  would  be  impossible. 

Miss  Kennedy  looked  up  and  nodded  to  him  kindly,  motion- 
ing him  not  to  interrupt  the  story,  which  the  captain  presently 
finished. 

Then  they  had  a  little  music  and  a  little  playing,  and  there 
was  a  little  dancing — all  just  as  usual :  a  quiet,  pleasant  evening ; 
and  they  went  away. 

"  You  are  silent  to-night,  Mr.  Goslett,"  said  Angela,  as  they 
took  their  customary  walk  in  the  quiet  little  garden  called  Step- 
ney Green. 

"  Yes.     I  am  like  the  parrot ;  I  think  the  more." 

*'  What  is  your  mind  ?" 

"  This :  I  have  had  an  offer — an  offer  of  work  from  the  Brew- 
ery. Miss  Messenger  sent  the  offer,  which  I  am  to  accept,  or  to 
refuse,  to-morrow  morning." 

"  An  offer  of  work  ?  I  congratulate  you.  Of  course,  you  will 
accept  ?"     She  looked  at  him  sharply,  even  suspiciously. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  You  have  forgotten,"  she  said — in  other  girls  the  words  and 
the  tone  of  her  voice  would  have  sounded  like  an  encourage- 
ment— "you  have  forgotten  what  you  said  only  last  Sunday 
evening." 

"  No,  I  have  not  forgotten.  What  I  said  last  Sunday  even- 
ing only  increases  my  embarrassment.  I  did  not  expect  then — 
I  did  not  think  it  possible  that  any  work  here  would  be  offered 
to  me." 

"  Is  the  pay  insuflBcient  ?" 

"  No ;  the  pay  is  to  be  at  the  usual  market  rate." 

"  Are  the  hours  too  long  ?" 

"  I  am  to  please  myself.     It  seems  as  if  the  young  lady  had 


ALL    SOr.To    AND    COKDITIOKo    OF    MEN.  165 

done  her  best  to  make  me  as  independent  as  a  man  who  works 
for  money  can  be." 

"  Yet  you  hesitate.     Why  ?" 

He  was  silent ;  thinking  what  he  should  tell  her.  The  whole 
truth  would  have  been  best ;  but  then,  one  so  seldom  tells  the 
whole  truth  about  anything,  far  less  about  one's  self.  He  could 
not  tell  her  that  he  had  been  masquerading  all  the  time,  after  so 
many  protestations  of  being  a  real  workingman. 

"  Is  it  that  you  do  not  like  to  make  friends  among  the  East- 
End  workmen  ?" 

"  No."  He  could  answer  this  with  truth.  "  It  is  not  that. 
The  workingmen  here  are  better  than  I  expected  to  find  them. 
They  are  more  sensible,  more  self-reliant,  and  less  dangerous. 
To  be  sure,  they  profess  to  entertain  an  unreasoning  dislike  for 
rich  people,  and,  I  believe,  think  that  their  lives  are  entirely 
spent  over  oranges  and  skittles.  I  wish  they  had  more  knowl- 
edge of  books,  and  could  be  got  to  think  in  some  elemental 
fashion  about  art.  I  wish  they  had  a  better  sense  of  beauty, 
and  I  wish  they  could  be  got  to  cultivate  some  of  the  graces  of 
life.  You  shall  teach  them.  Miss  Kennedy.  Also,  I  wish  that 
tobacco  was  not  their  only  solace.  I  am  very  much  interested 
in  them.     That  is  not  the  reason." 

"  If  you  please  to  tell  me — "  she  said. 

"  ^Vell,  then  "—he  would  tell  that  fatal  half-truth—"  the  rea- 
son is  this :  you  know  that  I  have  had  an  education  above  what 
fortune  intended  for  me  when  she  made  me  the  son  of  Sergeant 
Goslett." 

"  I  know,"  she  replied.  "  It  was  my  case  as  well ;  we  are 
companions  in  this  great  happiness." 

"The  man  who  conferred  this  benefit  upon  me,  the  best  and 
kindest-hearted  man  in  the  world,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for 
more  than  I  can  tell  you,  is  willing  to  do  more  for  me.  If  I 
please,  I  can  live  with  him  in  idleness." 

"  You  may  live  in  idleness  ?  That  must  be,  indeed,  a  tempt- 
ing offer  1" 

"  Idleness,"  he  replied,  a  little  hurt  at  her  contempt  for  what 
certainly  was  a  temptation  to  him,  "  does  not  always  mean  doing 
nothing." 

"  What  would  you  do,  then  ?" 

"  There  is  the  life  of  culture  and  art — " 


156  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Oh,  no  !"  she  replied.  "  Would  you  really  like  to  become 
one  of  those  poor  creatures  who  think  they  lead  lives  devoted 
to  art  ?  Would  you  like  to  grow  silly  over  blue  china,  to  quar- 
rel about  color,  to  worship  form  in  poetry,  to  judge  everything 
by  the  narrow  rules  of  the  latest  pedantic  fashion  ?" 

"  You  know  this  art  world,  then  ?" 

"  I  know  something  of  it ;  I  have  heard  of  it.  Never  mind 
me,  think  of  yourself.  You  would  not,  you  could  not,  condemn 
yourself  to  such  a  life." 

"  Not  to  such  a  life  as  you  picture.  But,  consider,  I  am  of- 
fered a  life  of  freedom  instead  of  servitude." 

"  Servitude  !  Why,  we  are  all  servants  one  of  the  other. 
Society  is  like  the  human  body,  in  which  all  the  limbs  belong  to 
each  other.  There  must  be  rich  and  poor,  idlers  and  workers ; 
we  depend  one  upon  the  other ;  if  the  rich  do  not  work  with 
and  for  the  poor,  retribution  falls  upon  them.  The  poor  must 
work  for  the  rich,  or  they  will  starve ;  poor  or  rich,  I  think  it 
is  better  to  be  poor ;  idler  or  worker,  I  know  it  is  better  to  be 
worker." 

He  thought  of  Lord  Jocelyn ;  of  the  pleasant  chambers  in 
Piccadilly,  of  the  club,  of  his  own  friends,  of  society,  of  little 
dinners,  of  stalls  at  the  theatre,  of  suppers  among  actors  and 
actresses,  of  artists  and  their  smoking-parties,  of  the  men  who 
write,  and  the  men  who  talk,  and  the  men  who  know  everybody 
and  are  full  of  stories ;  of  his  riding  and  hunting  and  shooting, 
of  his  fencing  and  billiards  and  cards. 

All  these  things  passed  through  his  brain  swiftly,  in  a  mo- 
ment. And  then  he  thought  of  the  beautiful  woman  beside 
him,  whose  voice  was  the  sweetest  music  to  him  that  he  had 
ever  heard. 

"  You  must  take  the  offer,"  she  went  on,  and  her  words  fell 
upon  his  ear  like  the  words  of  an  oracle  to  a  Greek  in  doubt. 
"  Work  at  the  Brewery  is  not  hard.  You  will  have  no  taskmas- 
ter set  over  you ;  you  are  free  to  go  and  come,  to  choose  your 
own  time ;  there  will  be,  in  so  great  a  place  there  must  be,  work 
quite  enough  to  occupy  your  time.  Give  up  yearning  after  an 
idle  life,  and  work  in  patience." 

"  Is  there  anything,"  he  said,  "  to  which  yon  could  not  per- 
suade me  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  for  me,"  she  replied,  impatiently.     "  It  is  for  your- 


ALL    80KTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  157 

self.  You  have  your  life  before  you,  to  throw  away  or  to  use. 
Tell  me,"  she  hesitated  a  little ;  "  you  have  come  back  to  your 
own  kith  and  kin,  after  many  years.  They  were  strange  to  you 
at  first,  all  these  people  of  the  East  End — your  own  people. 
Now  that  you  know  them,  should  you  like  to  go  away  from  them, 
altogether  away,  and  forget  them  ?  Could  you  desert  them  ? 
You  know,  if  you  go,  that  you  will  desert  them,  for  between 
this  end  of  London  and  the  other  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed, 
across  which  no  one  ever  passes.  You  will  leave  us  altogether 
if  you  leave  us  now." 

At  this  point  Harry  felt  the  very  strongest  desire  to  make  it 
clear  that  what  concerned  him  most  would  be  the  leaving  her, 
but  he  repressed  the  temptation,  and  merely  remarked  that  if 
he  did  desert  his  kith  and  kin,  they  would  not  regret  him.  His 
uncle  Bunker,  he  explained,  had  even  offered  him  five-and-twenty 
pounds  to  go. 

"  It  is  not  that  you  have  done  anything,  you  know,  except  to 
help  us  in  our  little  experiment,"  said  Angela.  "  But  it  is  what 
you  may  do,  what  you  shall  do,  if  you  remain." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?" 

"  You  have  knowledge,  you  have  a  voice,  you  have  a  quick 
eye  and  a  ready  tongue ;  you  could  lead,  you  could  preside. 
Oh !  what  a  career  you  might  have  before  you !" 

"  You  think  too  well  of  me,  Miss  Kennedy.  I  am  a  very  lazy 
and  worthless  kind  of  man." 

'*  No."  She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  superior.  "  I  know 
you  better  than  you  know  yourself.  I  have  watched  you  for 
these  months.  And  then,  we  must  not  forget,  there  is  our  Pal- 
ace of  Delight." 

"  Are  we  millionaires  ?" 

"Why,  we  have  already  begun  it.  There  is  our  drawing- 
room  ;  it  is  only  a  few  weeks  old,  yet  see  what  a  difference 
there  is  already.  The  girls  are  happy ;  their  finer  tastes  are 
awakened ;  their  natural  yearnings  after  things  delightful  are 
partly  satisfied ;  they  laugh  and  sing  now ;  they  run  about  and 
play.  There  is  already  something  of  our  dream  realized.  Stay 
with  us  and  we  shall  see  the  rest." 

He  made  an  effort,  and  again  restrained  himself. 

"  I  stay  then,"  he  said,  "  for  your  sake — because  you  command 
me  to  stay." 


158  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

Had  she  done  well  ?  She  asked  herself  the  question  in  the 
shelter  of  her  bedroom,  with  great  doubt  and  anxiety.  This 
young  workman  who  might  if  he  chose  be  a — well — yes — a 
gentleman — quite  as  good  a  gentleman  as  most  of  the  men  who 
pretend  to  the  title — was  going  to  give  up  whatever  prospects 
he  had  in  the  world,  at  her  bidding,  and  for  her  sake.  For  her 
sake  !     Yet  what  he  wished  was  impossible. 

Vv'hat  reward,  then,  had  she  to  offer  him  that  would  satisfy 
him  ?  Nothing.  Stay,  he  was  only  a  man.  One  pretty  face 
was  as  good  as  another ;  he  was  struck  with  hers  for  the  mo- 
ment. She  would  put  him  in  the  way  of  being  attracted  by 
another.  Yes ;  that  would  do.  This  settled  in  her  own  mind, 
she  put  the  matter  aside,  and,  as  she  was  very  sleepy,  she  only 
murmured  to  herself,  as  her  eyes  closed,  "  Nelly  Sorensen." 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

WHAT    LORD    JOCELYN    THOUGHT. 


The  subject  of  Angela's  meditations  was  not  where  she 
thought  him,  in  his  own  bedroom.  When  he  left  his  adviser, 
he  did  not  go  in  at  once,  but  walked  once  or  twice  up  and  down 
the  pavement,  thinking.  What  he  had  promised  to  do  was 
nothing  less  than  to  reverse,  altogether,  the  whole  of  his  prom- 
ised life  ;  and  this  is  no  light  matter,  even  if  you  do  it  for  love's 
sweet  sake.  And  Miss  Kennedy  being  no  longer  with  him,  he 
felt  a  little  chilled  from  the  first  enthusiasm.  Presently  he 
looked  at  his  watch :  it  was  still  early ;  only  half-past  ten. 

"  There  is  the  chance,"  he  said.  "  It  is  only  a  chance.  He 
generally  comes  back  somewhere  about  this  time." 

There  are  no  cabs  at  Stepney,  but  there  are  tramways  which 
go  quite  as  fast,  and,  besides,  give  one  the  opportunity  of  ex- 
changing ideas  on  current  topics  with  one's  travelling  compan- 
ions. Harry  jumped  into  one,  and  sat  down  between  a  bibulous 
old  gentleman,  who  said  he  lived  in  Fore  Street,  but  had  for  the 
moment  mislaid  all  his  other  ideas,  and  a  lady  who  talked  to 
herself  as  she  carried  a  bundle.  She  was  rehearsing  something 
dramatic,  a  monologue,  in  which  she  was  "giving  it"  to  somebody 
unknown.     And  she  was  so  much  under  the  influence  and  cmo- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  159 

tion  of  imagination  that  the  young  man  trembled  lest  he  might 
be  mistaken  for  the  person  addressed.  However,  happily  the 
lady  so  far  restrained  herself,  and  Aldgate  was  reached  in  peace. 
There  he  took  a  hansom  and  drove  to  Piccadilly. 

The  streets  looked  strange  to  him  after  his  three  months'  ab- 
sence ;  the  lights,  the  crowds  on  the  pavement,  so  different  from 
the  East-End  crowd ;  the  rush  of  the  carriages  and  cabs  taking 
the  people  home  from  the  theatre,  filled  him  with  a  strange  long- 
ing. He  had  been  asleep ;  he  had  had  a  dream ;  there  was  no 
Stepney  ;  there  was  no  Whitcchapel  Road  ;  a  strange  and  won- 
drous dream.  Miss  Kennedy  and  her  damsels  were  only  a  part 
of  this  vision.  A  beautiful  and  delightful  dream.  He  was  back 
again  in  Piccadilly,  and  all  was  exactly  as  it  always  had  been. 

So  far  all  was  exactly  the  same,  for  Lord  Jocelyn  was  in  his 
chamber  and  alone. 

"  You  are  come  back  to  me,  Harry  ?"  he  said,  holding  the 
young  man's  hand  ;  "  you  have  had  enough  of  your  cousins  and 
the  worthy  Bunker.  Sit  down,  boy.  I  heard  your  foot  on  the 
stairs.  I  have  waited  for  it  a  long  time.  Sit  down  and  let  mo 
look  at  you.    To-morrow  you  shall  tell  me  all  your  adventures." 

"  It  is  comfortable,"  said  Harry,  taking  his  old  chair  and  one 
of  his  guardian's  cigarettes.  "  Yes,  Piccadilly  is  better,  in  some 
respects,  than  WhitQchapel." 

"  And  there  is  more  comfort  the  higher  up  you  climb,  eh  ?" 

"  Certainly,  more  comfort.  There  is  not,  I  am  sure,  such  an 
easy-chair  as  this  east  of  St.  Paul's." 

Then  they  were  silent,  as  becomes  two  men  who  know  what 
is  in  each  other's  hearts,  and  wait  for  it  to  be  said. 

"  You  look  well,"  said  Harry,  presently.  "  Where  did  you 
spend  the  summer?" 

"  Mediterranean.     Yacht.     Partridges." 

*'  Of  course.     Do  you  stay  in  London  long  ?" 

And  so  on.  Playing  with  the  talk,  and  postponing  the  inevi- 
table, Harry  learned  where  everybody  had  been,  and  who  was 
engaged,  and  who  was  married,  and  how  one  or  two  had  joined 
the  majority  since  his  departure.  He  also  heard  the  latest  scan- 
dal, and  the  current  talk,  and  what  had  been  done  at  the  club, 
and  who  had  been  black-balled,  with  divers  small  bits  of  infor- 
mation about  people  and  things.  And  he  took  up  the  talk  in 
the  old  manner,  and  fell  into  the  old  attitude  of  mind  quite  nat- 


IGO  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

urally,  and  as  if  there  had  been  no  break  at  all.  Presently  the 
clock  pointed  to  one,  and  Lord  Jocelyn  rose. 

"  We  will  talk  again  to-morrow,  Harry,  my  boy,  and  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  and  many  days  after  that.  I  am  glad  to  have 
you  back  again."  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  young  man's 
shoulder. 

"  Do  not  go  just  yet,"  said  Harry,  blushing  and  feeling  guilty, 
because  he  was  going  to  inflict  pain  on  one  who  loved  him.  "  I 
cannot  talk  with  you  to-morrow." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because — sit  down  again  and  listen — because  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  join  my  kith  and  kin  altogether,  and  stay  among 
them." 

"  What  ?     Stay  among  them  ?" 

"  You  remember  what  you  told  me  of  your  motive  in  taking 
me.  You  would  bring  up  a  boy  of  the  people  like  a  gentleman. 
You  would  educate  him  in  all  that  a  gentleman  can  learn,  and 
then  you  would  send  him  back  to  his  friends,  whom  he  would 
make  discontented,  and  so  open  the  way  for  civilization." 

"  I  said  so — did  I  ?  Yes ;  but  there  were  other  things,  Harry. 
You  forget  that  motives  are  always  mixed.  There  was  affection 
for  my  brave  sergeant  and  a  desire  to  help  his  son ;  there  were 
all  sorts  of  things.  Besides,  I  expected  that  you  would  take  a 
rough  kind  of  polish  only — like  nickel,  you  know,  or  pewter — 
and  you  turned  out  real  silver.  A  gentleman,  I  thought,  is  born, 
not  made.  This  proved  a  mistake.  The  puddle  blood  would 
show,  I  expected ;  which  was  prejudice,  you  see,  because  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  puddle  blood.  Besides,  I  thought  you  would 
be  stupid  and  slow  to  pick  up  ideas,  and  that  you  would  pick 
up  only  a  few ;  supposing,  in  my  ignorance,  that  all  persons  not 
'  born,'  as  the  Germans  say,  must  be  stupid  and  slow." 

"  And  I  am  not  stupid  ?" 

"  You  ?  The  brightest  and  cleverest  lad  in  the  whole  world — 
you  stepped  into  the  place  I  made  for  you  as  if  you  had  been 
born  for  it.     Now  tell  me  why  you  wish  to  step  out  of  it." 

"  Like  you,  sir,  I  have  many  motives.  Partly  I  am  greatly 
interested  in  my  own  people  ;  partly,  I  am  interested  in  the  place 
itself  and  its  ways ;  partly,  I  am  told,  and  I  believe,  that  there 
is  a  great  deal  which  I  can  do  there — do  not  laugh  at  me." 

"  I  am  not  laughing,  Harry  ;  I  am  only  astonished.    Yes,  you 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  161 

are  changed :  yonr  eyes  are  different,  your  voice  is  different. 
Go  on,  my  boy." 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  to  say — I  mean,  in  explana- 
tion. But  of  course  I  understand — it  is  a  part  of  the  thing — 
that  if  I  stay  among  them  I  must  be  independent,  I  could  no 
longer  look  to  your  bounty,  which  I  have  accepted  too  long. 
I  must  work  for  my  living." 

"  Work  ?     And  what  will  you  do  ?" 

"  I  know  a  lot  of  things,  but  somehow  they  are  not  wanted  at 
Stepney,  and  the  only  thing  by  which  I  can  make  money  seems 
to  be  my  lathe — I  have  become  a  cabinet-maker." 

"Heavens!  You  have  become  a  cabinet-maker?  Do  you 
actually  mean,  Harry,  that  you  are  going  to  work — with  your 
hands — for  money  ?" 

"  Yes ;  with  my  hands.  I  shall  be  paid  for  my  work ;  I  shall 
live  by  my  work.     The  puddle  blood,  you  see." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  there  is  no  proof  of  puddle 
blood  in  being  independent.     But  think  of  the  discomfort  of  it." 

"  I  have  thought  of  the  discomfort.  It  is  not  really  so  very 
bad.     What  is  your  idea  of  the  life  I  shall  have  to  live  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  with  a  shudder,  "  you  will  rise  at 
six ;  you  will  go  out  in  working-clothes,  carrying  your  tools, 
and  with  your  apron  tied  round  and  tucked  up  like  a  missionary 
bishop  on  his  way  to  a  confirmation.  You  will  find  yourself  in 
a  workshop  full  of  disagreeable  people,  who  pick  out  unpleasant 
adjectives  and  tack  them  on  to  everything,  and  whose  views  of 
life  and  habits  are — well,  not  your  own.  You  will  have  to  smoke 
pipes  at  a  street-corner  on  Sundays ;  your  tobacco  will  be  bad ; 
you  will  drink  bad  beer.  Harry  !  the  contemplation  of  the  thing 
is  too  painful." 

Harry  laughed. 

"  The  reality  is  not  quite  so  bad,"  he  said.  "  Cabinet-makers 
are  excellent  fellows.  And  as  for  myself,  I  shall  not  work  in  a 
shop,  but  alone.  I  am  offered  the  post  of  cabinet-maker  in  a 
great  place  where  I  shall  have  my  own  room  to  myself,  and  can 
please  my  own  convenience  as  to  my  hours.  I  shall  earn  about 
tenpcnce  an  hour,  say  seven  shillings  a  day,  if  I  keep  at  it." 

"  If  he  keeps  at  it,"  murmured  Lord  Jocelyn,  '•  he  will  make 
seven  shillings  a  day." 

"  Dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  of  course,"  Harry  went  on, 


162  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

with  a  cheerful  smile.  At  the  East  End  everybody  stokes  at  one. 
We  have  tea  at  five,  and  supper  when  we  can  got  it.  A  sin.^xer 
life  than  yours." 

"  This  is  a  programme  of  such  extreme  misery,"  said  Lord 
Jocelyn,  "  that  your  explanations  are  quite  insufficient.  Is  mere, 
I  wonder,  a  woman  in  the  case  ?" 

Harry  blushed  violently. 

"  There  is  a  woman,  then  ?"  said  his  guardian,  triumphantly. 
"  There  always  is.  I  might  have  guessed  it  from  the  beginning. 
Come,  Harry,  tell  me  all  about  it.  Is  it  serious  ?  Is  she — can 
she  be — at  Whitechapel — a  lady  ?" 

'•  Yes,"  said  Harry,  "  it  is  quite  true.  There  is  a  woman,  and 
I  am  in  love  with  her.     She  is  a  dressmaker." 

«  Oh !" 

"  And  a  lady." 

Lord  Jocelyn  said  nothing. 

"  A  lady ;"  Harry  repeated  the  words,  to  show  that  lie  knew 
what  he  was  saying.    "  But  it  is  no  use.    She  won't  listen  to  me." 

"  That  is  more  remarkable  than  your  two  last  statements. 
Many  men  have  fallen  in  love  with  dressmakers;  some  dress- 
makers have  acquired  partially  the  manners  of  a  lady ;  but  that 
any  dressmaker  should  refuse  the  honorable  attentions  of  a  hand- 
some young  fellow  like  you,  and  a  gentleman,  is  inconceivable." 

"  A  cabinet-maker,  not  a  gentleman.  But  do  not  let  us  talk 
of  her,  if  you  please." 

Then  Lord  Jocelyn  proceeded,  with  such  eloquence  as  was  at 
his  command,  to  draw  a  picture  of  what  he  was  throwing  awaV 
compared  with  what  he  was  accepting.  There  was  a  universal 
feeling,  he  assured  his  ward,  of  sympathy  with  him ;  everybody 
felt  that  it  was  rough  on  such  a  man  as  himself  to  find  that  he 
was  not  of  illustrious  descent ;  he  would  take  his  old  place  in 
society,  all  his  old  friends  would  welcome  him  back  among  them 
■ — with  much  more  to  the  same  purpose. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  their  conversation 
ended,  and  Lord  Jocelyn  went  to  bed  sorrowful,  promising  to 
renew  his  arguments  in  the  morning.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone, 
Harry  went  to  his  own  room  and  put  together  a  few  little  trifles 
belonging  to  the  past  which  he  thought  he  should  like.  Then 
he  wrote  a  letter  of  farewell  to  his  guardian,  promising  to  report 
himself  from  time  to  time,  with  a  few  words  of  gratitude  and 


ALl    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN.  163 

affection.  And  then  lie  stole  quietly  down  the  stairs  and  found 
himself  in  the  open  street.     Like  a  schoolboy,  he  had  run  away. 

There  was  nobody  left  in  the  streets.  Half-past  four  in  the 
morning  is  almost  the  quietest  time  of  any ;  even  the  burglar 
has  gone  home,  and  it  is  too  early  for  anything  but  the  market- 
garden  carts  on  their  way  to  Covent  Garden.  He  strode  down 
Piccadilly  and  across  the  silent  Leicester  Square  into  the  Strand. 
He  passed  through  that  remarkable  thoroughfare,  and  by  way 
of  Fleet  Street,  where  even  the  newspaper  offices  were  deserted, 
the  leader-writers  and  the  editor  and  the  sub-editors  all  gone 
home  to  bed,  to  St.  Paul's.  It  was  then  a  little  after  five,  and 
there  was  already  a  stir,  an  occasional  footfall  along  the  princi- 
pal streets.  By  the  time  he  got  to  the  Whitechapel  Road  there 
were  a  good  many  up  and  about,  and  before  he  reached  Stepney 
Green  the  day's  work  was  beginning.  The  night  had  gone  and 
the  sun  was  rising,  for  it  was  six  o'clock  and  a  cloudless  morning. 
At  ten  he  presented  himself  once  more  at  the  accountant's  office. 

"  Well  ?"  asked  the  chief. 

"  I  am  come,"  said  Harry,  "  to  accept  Miss  Messenger's  offer." 

"You  seem  pretty  independent.  However,  that  is  the  way 
with  you  workingmen  nowadays.  I  suppose  you  don't  even 
pretend  to  feel  any  gratitude  ?" 

*'  I  don't  pretend,"  said  Harry,  pretty  hotly,  "  to  answer  ques- 
tions outside  the  work  I  have  to  do." 

The  chief  looked  at  him  as  if  he  could,  if  he  wished,  and  was 
not  a  Christian,  annihilate  him. 

"  Go,  young  man,"  he  said,  presently,  pointing  to  the  door, 
"  go  to  your  work.  Rudeness  to  his  betters  a  workingman  con- 
siders due  to  himself,  I  suppose.     Go  to  your  work." 

Harry  obeyed  without  a  word,  being  in  such  a  rage  that  he 
could  not  speak.  When  he  reached  his  workshop,  he  found 
waiting  to  be  mended  an  office-stool  with  a  broken  leg.  I  regret 
to  report  that  this  unhappy  stool  immediately  became  a  stool 
with  four  broken  legs  and  a  kicked-out  seat. 

Harry  was  for  the  moment  too  strong  for  the  furniture. 
Not  even  the  thought  of  Miss  Kennedy's  approbation  could 
bring  him  comfort.  He  was  an  artisan,  he  worked  by  the  piece 
— that  was  nothing.  The  galling  thing  was  to  realize  that  he 
must  now  behave  to  certain  classes  with  a  semblance  of  respect, 
because  now  he  had  his  "  letters." 


164  ALL    SORTS    AND   CONDITIONS    OF  MEN. 

The  day  before  he  was  a  gentleman  who  had  no  "betters." 
He  was  enriched  by  this  addition  to  his  possessions,  and  yet  he 
was  not  grateful. 


CHAPTER    XVIIL 

THE    PALACE    OF    DELIGHT. 


There  lies  on  the  west  and  southwest  of  Stepney  Green  a  tri- 
angular district,  consisting  of  an  irregular  four-sided  figure — 
what  Euclid  beautifully  calls  a  trapezium — formed  by  the  White- 
chapel  Road,  the  Commercial  Road,  Stepney  Green,  and  High 
Street,  or  Jamaica  Street,  or  Jubilee  Street,  whichever  you  please 
to  call  your  frontier.  This  favored  spot  exhibits  in  perfection 
all  the  leading  features  which  characterize  the  great  Joyless  City. 
It  is,  in  fact,  the  heart  of  the  East  End.  Its  streets  are  mean 
and  without  individuality  or  beauty ;  at  no  season  and  under  no 
conditions  can  they  ever  be  picturesque ;  one  can  tell  without 
inquiring  that  the  lives  led  in  those  houses  are  all  after  the  same 
model,  and  that  the  inhabitants  have  no  pleasures.  Everything 
that  goes  to  make  a  city,  except  the  means  of  amusement,  is  to 
be  found  here.  There  are  churches  and  chapels — do  not  the 
blackened  ruins  of  Whitechapel  Church  stand  here  ?  There  are 
superior  "  seminaries "  and  "  academies,"  names  which  linger 
here  to  show  where  the  yearning  after  the  genteel  survives ;  there 
is  a  Board  School,  there  is  the  great  London  Hospital,  there  are 
almshouses,  there  are  even  squares  in  it — Sydney  Square  and 
Bedford  Square  to  wit — but  there  are  no  gardens,  avenues,  thea- 
tres, art  galleries,  libraries,  or  any  kind  of  amusement  whatever. 

The  leading  thoroughfare  of  this  quarter  is  named  Oxford 
Street,  which  runs  nearly  all  the  way  from  the  New  Road  to 
Stepney  Church.  It  begins  well  with  some  breadth,  a  church 
and  a  few  trees  on  one  side,  and  almshouses  with  a  few  trees  on 
the  other.  This  promise  is  not  kept;  it  immediately  narrows 
and  becomes  like  the  streets  which  branch  out  of  it,  a  double 
row  of  little  two-storied  houses,  all  alike.  Apparently  they  are 
all  furnished  alike ;  in  each  ground-floor  front  there  are  the  red 
curtains  and  the  white  blind  of  respectability,  with  the  little 
table  bearing  something,  either  a  basket  of  artificial  flowers,  or 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  165 

a  big  Bible,  or  a  vase,  or  a  case  of  stuffed  birds  from  foreign 
parts,  to  mark  the  gentility  of  the  family,  A  little  farther  on, 
the  houses  begin  to  have  small  balconies  on  the  first  floor,  and 
are  even  more  genteel.  The  streets  vi^hich  run  off  north  and 
south  arc  like  unto  it,  but  meaner.  Now,  the  really  sad  thing 
about  this  district  is  that  the  residents  are  not  the  starving  class, 
or  the  vicious  class,  or  the  drinking  class ;  they  are  a  well-to-do 
and  thriving  people,  yet  they  desire  no  happiness,  they  do  not 
feel  the  lack  of  joy,  they  live  in  meanness,  and  are  contented 
therewith.  So  that  it  is  emphatically  a  representative  quarter  and 
a  type  of  the  East  End  generally,  which  is  for  the  most  part  respec- 
table and  wholly  dull,  and  perfectly  contented  never  to  know  what 
pleasant  strolling  and  resting  places,  what  delightful  interests, 
what  varied  occupation,  what  sweet  diversions  there  are  in  life. 
As  for  the  people,  they  follow  a  great  variety  of  trades.  There 
are  "  travelling  drapers  "  in  abundance  ;  it  is,  in  fact,  the  chosen 
quartier  of  that  romantic  following ;  there  are  a  good  many 
stevedores,  which  betrays  the  neighborhood  of  docks ;  there  are 
some  who  follow  the  mysterious  calling  of  herbalist,  and  I  be- 
lieve you  could  here  still  buy  the  materials  for  those  now  forgot- 
ten delicacies,  saloop  and  tansy-pudding.  You  can,  at  least, 
purchase  medicines  for  any  disease  under  the  sun  if  you  know 
the  right  herbalist  to  go  to.  One  of  them  is  a  medium  as  well ; 
and  if  you  call  on  him,  you  may  be  entertained  by  the  artless 
pr^ittle  of  the  "  sperruts,"  of  whom  he  knows  one  or  two.  They 
call  themselves  all  sorts  of  names — such  as  Peter,  Paul,  Shake- 
speare, Napoleon,  and  Byron — but  in  reality  there  are  only  two 
of  them,  and  they  are  bad  actors.  Then  there  are  cork-cutters, 
"  wine-merchants'  engineers  " — it  seems  rather  a  grand  thing  for 
a  wine-merchant,  above  all  other  men,  to  want  an  engineer ;  nov- 
elists do  not  want  engineers — sealing-wax  manufacturers,  work- 
ers in  shellac  and  zinc,  sign-painters,  heraldic  painters,  coopers ; 
makers  of  combs,  iron-hoops,  and  sun-blinds  ;  pewterers,  feather- 
makers — they  only  pretend  to  make  feathers ;  what  they  really 
do  is  to  buy  them,  or  to  pluck  the  birds,  and  then  arrange  the 
feathers  and  trim  them ;  but  they  do  not  really  make  them — ■ 
ship-modellers,  a  small  but  haughty  race  ;  mat-dealers,  who 
never  pass  a  prison  without  using  bad  language,  for  reasons 
which  many  Avho  have  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  a  prison  will 
doubtless  understand.     There  are  also  a  large  quantity  of  people 


168  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

who  call  themselves  teachers  of  music.  This  may  he  taken  as 
mere  pride  and  ostentatious  pretence,  because  no  one  wants  to 
learn  music  in  this  country,  no  one  ever  plays  any  music,  no  one 
has  a  desire  to  hear  any.  If  any  one  called  and  asked  for  terras 
of  tuition,  he  would  be  courteously  invited  to  go  away,  or  the 
professor  would  be  engaged,  or  he  would  be  out  of  town.  In 
the  same  way,  a  late  learned  professor  of  Arabic  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Cambridge  was  reported  always  to  have  important  busi- 
ness in  the  country  if  an  Arab  came  to  visit  the  colleges.  But 
what  a  lift  above  the  stevedores,  pewterers,  and  feather  pretend- 
ers to  be  a  professor  of  music ! 

Angela  would  plant  her  palace  in  this  region,  the  most  fitting 
place,  because  the  most  dreary ;  because  here  there  exists  noth- 
ing, absolutely  nothing,  for  the  imagination  to  feed  upon.  It 
is,  in  fact,  though  this  is  not  generally  known,  the  purgatory 
prepared  for  those  who  have  given  themselves  up  too  much  to 
the  enjoyment  of  roses  and  rapture  while  living  at  the  West 
End.  How  beautiful  are  all  the  designs  of  Nature  !  Could  there 
be,  anywhere  in  the  world,  a  more  fitting  place  for  such  a  pur- 
gatory than  such  a  city  ?  Besides,  once  one  understands  the 
thing,  one  is  further  enabled  to  explain  why  these  grim  and  som- 
bre streets  remain  without  improvement.  To  beautify  them 
would  seem,  in  the  eyes  of  pious  and  religious  people,  almost  a 
flying  in  the  face  of  Providence.  And  yet  not  really  so ;  for  it 
may  be  argued  that  there  are  other  places  also  fitted  for  the 
punishment  of  these  purgatorial  souls  —  for  instance,  Hoxton, 
Bethnal  Green,  Battersea,  and  the  Isle  of  Dogs. 

Angela  resolved,  therefore,  that  on  this  spot  the  Palace  of  Joy 
should  stand.  There  should  be,  for  all  who  chose  to  accept  it, 
a  general  and  standing  invitation  to  accept  happiness  and  create 
new  forms  of  delight.  She  would  awaken  in  dull  and  lethargic 
brains  a  new  sense,  the  new  sense  of  pleasure ;  she  would  give 
them  a  craving  for  things  of  which  as  yet  they  knew  nothing. 
She  would  place  within  their  reach,  at  no  cost  whatever,  abso- 
lutely free  for  all,  the  same  enjoyments  as  are  purchased  by  the 
rich.  A  beautiful  dream.  They  should  cultivate  a  noble  dis- 
content ;  they  should  gradually  learn  to  be  critical ;  they  should 
import  into  their  own  homes  the  spirit  of  discontent ;  they  should 
cease  to  look  on  life  as  a  daily  uprising  and  a  down-sitting,  a 
daily  mechanical  toil,  a  daily  rest.     To  cultivate  the  sense  of 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  167 

pleasure  is  to  civilize.  With  the  majority  of  mankind  the  sense 
is  undeveloped,  and  is  chiefly  confined  to  eating  and  drinking. 
To  teach  the  people  how  the  capacity  of  delight  may  be  widened, 
how  it  may  be  taught  to  throw  out  branches  in  all  manner  of 
unsuspected  directions,  was  Angela's  ambition.  A  very  beauti- 
ful dream. 

She  owned  so  many  houses  in  this  district  that  it  was  quite 
easy  to  find  a  place  suitable  for  her  purpose.  She  discovered 
upon  the  map  of  her  property  a  whole  four-square  block  of  small 
houses,  all  her  own,  bounded  north,  south,  east,  and  west  by 
streets  of  other  small  houses,  similar  and  similarly  situated.  This 
site  was  about  five  minutes  west  of  Stepney  Green,  and  in  the 
district  already  described.  The  houses  were  occupied  by  weekly 
tenants,  who  would  find  no  difficulty  in  getting  quarters  as  eli- 
gible elsewhere.  Some  of  them  were  in  bad  repair ;  and  what 
with  maintenance  of  roofs  and  chimneys,  bad  debts,  midnight 
flittings,  and  other  causes,  there  was  little  or  no  income  derived 
from  these  houses.  Mr.  Messenger,  indeed,  who  was  a  hard  man, 
but  not  unjust,  only  kept  them  to  save  them  from  the  small 
owner  like  Mr.  Bunker,  whose  necessities  and  greed  made  him 
a  rack-rent  landlord. 

Having  fixed  upon  her  site,  Angela  next  proceeded  to  have 
interviews — but  not  on  the  spot,  where  she  might  be  recognized 
— with  lawyers  and  architects,  and  to  unfold  partially  her  design. 
The  area  on  which  the  houses  stood  formed  a  pretty  large  plot 
of  ground,  ample  for  her  purpose,  provided  that  the  most  was 
made  of  the  space  and  nothing  wasted.  But  a  great  deal  was 
required ;  therefore  she  would  have  no  lordly  staircases  covering 
half  the  ground,  nor  great  ante-rooms,  nor  handsome  lobbies. 
Everything,  she  carefully  explained,  was  to  be  constructed  for 
use  and  not  for  show.  She  wanted,  to  begin  with,  three  large 
halls :  one  of  them  was  to  be  a  dancing-room,  but  it  might  also 
be  a  children's  playroom  for  wet  weather ;  one  was  to  be  used 
for  a  permanent  exhibition  of  native  talent,  in  painting,  draw- 
ing, wood  and  ivory  carving,  sculpture,  leather-work,  and  the 
like,  everything  being  for  sale  at  low  prices ;  the  last  was  to 
be  a  library,  reading  and  writing  room.  There  was  also  to  be 
a  theatre,  which  would  serve  as  a  concert  and  music  room,  and 
was  to  have  an  organ  in  it.  In  addition  to  these  there  were  to 
be  a  great  number  of  classrooms  for  the  various  arts,  accom- 
M 


108  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

plishments,  and  graces  that  were  to  be  taught  by  competent 
professors  and  lecturers.  There  were  to  be  other  rooms  where 
tired  people  might  find  rest,  quiet,  and  talk — the  women  with 
tea  and  work,  the  men  with  tobacco.  And  there  were  to  be 
billiard-rooms,  a  tennis-court,  a  racquet-court,  a  fives-court,  and 
a  card-room.  In  fact,  there  was  to  be  space  found  for  almost 
every  kind  of  recreation. 

She  did  not  explain  to  her  architect  how  she  proposed  to  use 
this  magnificent  place  of  entertainment ;  it  was  enough  that  he 
should  design  it  and  carry  out  her  ideas :  and  she  stipulated 
that  no  curious  inquirers  on  the  spot  should  be  told  for  what 
purpose  the  building  was  destined,  nor  who  was  the  builder. 

One  cannot  get  designs  for  a  palace  in  a  week :  it  was  already 
late  in  the  autumn,  after  Ilarry  had  taken  up  his  appointment 
and  was  busy  among  the  legs  of  stools,  that  the  houses  began  to 
be  pulled  down,  and  the  remnants  carted  away»  Angela  pressed 
on  the  work :  but  it  seemed  a  long  and  tedious  delay  before  the 
foundations  were  laid  and  the  walls  began  slowly  to  rise. 

There  should  have  been  a  great  Function  when  the  founda- 
tion-stone was  laid,  with  a  procession  of  the  clergy  in  white 
surplices  and  college-caps,  perhaps  a  bishop,  Miss  Messenger 
herself,  with  her  friends,  a  lord  or  two,  the  oflBcers  of  the  nearest 
Masonic  lodge,  a  few  Foresters,  Odd-Fellows,  Buffaloes,  Druids 
and  Shepherds,  a  flag,  the  charity  children,  a  dozen  policemen, 
and  Venetian  masts,  with  a  prayer,  a  hymn,  a  speech,  and  a 
breakfast — nothing  short  of  this  should  have  satisfied  the  found- 
er. Yet  she  let  the  opportunity  slip,  and  nothing  was  done  at 
all ;  the  great  building,  destined  to  change  the  character  of  the 
gloomy  city  into  a  City  of  Sunshine,  was  begun  with  no  pomp 
or  outward  demonstration.  Gangs  of  workmen  cleared  away 
the  ignoble  bricks ;  the  little  tenements  vanished ;  a  broad  space 
bristling  with  little  garden-walls  gaped  where  they  had  stood ; 
then  the  walls  vanished ;  and  nothing  at  all  was  left  but  holes 
where  cellars  had  been ;  then  they  raised  a  hoarding  round  the 
whole,  and  began  to  dig  out  the  foundation.  After  the  hoard- 
ing was  put  up,  nothing  more,  for  a  long  time,  was  visible.  An- 
gela used  to  prowl  round  it  in  the  morning,  when  her  girls  were 
all  at  work,  but  fearful  lest  the  architect  might  come  and  recog- 
nize her. 

As  she  saw  her  palace  begin  to  grow  into  existence,  she  be^ 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  169 

came  anxious  about  its  success.  The  first  beatific  vision,  the 
rapture  of  imagination, was  over,  and  would  come  no  more;  she 
had  now  to  face  the  hard  fact  of  an  unsympathetic  people  who 
perhaps  would  not  desire  any  pleasure  —  or,  if  any,  then  the 
pleasure  of  a  "  spree "  with  plenty  of  beer.  How  could  the 
thing  be  worked  if  the  people  themselves  would  not  work  it? 
How  many  could  she  reckon  upon  as  her  friends  ?  Perhaps  two 
or  three  at  most.  Oh !  the  Herculean  task,  for  one  woman,  with 
two  or  three  disciples,  to  revolutionize  the  City  of  East  London ! 

With  this  upon  her  mind,  her  conversations  with  the  intelli- 
gent young  cabinet-maker  became  more  than  usually  grave  and 
earnest.  He  was  himself  more  serious  than  of  old,  because  he 
now  occupied  so  responsible  a  position  in  the  Brewery.  Their 
relations  remained  unchanged.  They  walked  together,  they 
talked  and  they  devised  things  for  the  drawing-room,  and  es- 
pecially for  Saturday  evenings. 

'*  I  think,"  he  said,  one  evening  when  they  were  alone  except 
for  Nelly  in  the  drawing-room — "  I  think  that  we  should  never 
think  or  talk  of  workingmen  in  the  lump,  any  more  than  we 
think  of  rich  men  in  a  lump.  All  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
are  pretty  much  alike,  and  what  moves  one  moves  all.  We  are 
all  tempted  in  the  same  way ;  we  can  all  be  led  in  the  same 
way." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  see  how  that  fact  helps." 

They  were  talking,  as  Angela  loved  to  do,  of  the  scheme  of 
the  palace. 

"  If  the  palace  were  built,  wc  should  offer  the  people  of  Step- 
ney, without  prejudice  to  Whitechapel,  Mile  End,  Bow,  or  even 
Cable  Street,  a  great  many  things  which  at  present  they  cannot 
get  and  do  not  desire.  Yet  they  have  always  proved  extremely 
attractive.  We  offer  the  society  of  the  young  for  the  young, 
with  dancing,  singing,  music,  acting,  entertainments — everything 
except,  which  is  an  enormous  exception,  feasting :  we  offer  them 
all  for  nothing ;  we  tell  them,  in  fact,  to  do  everything  for  them- 
selves :  to  be  the  actors,  singers,  dancers,  and  musicians." 

"  And  they  cannot  do  anything." 

"  A  few  can ;  the  rest  will  come  in.     You  forget,  Miss  Ken- 
nedy, the  honor  and  glory  of  acting,  singing,  and  performing  in 
public.     Can  there  be  a  greater  reward  than  the  applause  of 
one's  friends  ?" 
8 


170  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  It  could  never  be  so  nice,"  said  Nelly,  "  to  dance  in  a  great 
hall  among  a  lot  of  people  as  to  dance  up  here,  all  by  ourselves." 

The  palace  was  not,  in  these  days,  very  greatly  in  the  young 
man's  mind.  He  was  occupied  with  other  things:  his  own 
work  and  position ;  the  wisdom  of  his  choice ;  the  prospects  of 
the  future.  For  surely,  if  he  had  exchanged  the  old  life  and 
got  nothing  in  return  but  work  at  a  lathe  all  day  at  tenpence  an 
hour,  the  change  was  a  bad  one.  Nothing  more  had  been  said 
to  him  by  Miss  Kennedy  about  the  great  things  he  was  to  do, 
with  her,  for  her,  among  his  people.  Was  he,  then,  supposed 
to  find  out  for  himself  these  great  things?  And  he  made  no 
more  way  with  his  wooing.  That  was  stopped,  apparently,  alto- 
gether. 

Always  kind  to  him ;  always  well  pleased  to  see  him ;  always 
receiving  him  with  the  same  sweet  and  gracious  smile ;  always 
frank  and  open  with  him — but  nothing  more. 

Of  late  he  had  observed  that  her  mind  was  greatly  occupied ; 
she  was  brooding  over  something ;  he  feared  that  it  might  be 
something  to  do  with  the  Associated  Dressmakers'  financial  po- 
sition. She  did  not  communicate  her  anxieties  to  him,  but  al- 
ways, when  they  were  alone,  wanted  to  go  back  to  their  vision 
of  the  palace.  Harry  possessed  a  ready  sympathy  ;  he  fell  easi- 
ly and  at  once  into  the  direction  suggested  by  another's  words. 
Therefore,  when  Angela  talked  about  the  palace,  he  too  took  up 
the  thread  of  invention,  and  made  believe  with  her  as  if  it  were 
a  thing  possible,  a  thing  of  brick  and  mortar. 

"  I  see,"  he  went  on  this  evening,  warming  to  the  work — "  I 
see  the  opening  day,  long  announced,  of  the  palace.  The  halls 
are  furnished  and  lit  up ;  the  dancing-room  is  ready :  the  theatre 
is  completed,  and  the  electric  lights  are  lit;  the  concert-rooms 
are  ready  Avith  their  music-stands  and  their  seats.  The  doors 
are  open.     Then  a  wonderful  thing  happens." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  Angela.  . 

"  Nobody  comes." 

"  Oh !" 

"  The  vast  chambers  c-eho  with  the  footsteps  of  yourself, 
Miss  Kennedy,  and  of  Nelly,  who  makes  no  more  noise  than  a 
demure  kitten.  Captain  Sorensen  and  I  make  as  much  tramp- 
ling as  we  can,  to  produce  the  effect  of  a  crowd.  But  it  hardly 
seems  to  succeed.     Then  come  the  girls,  and  we  try  to  get  up  a 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  lYl 

dance ;  but,  as  Nelly  says,  it  is  not  quite  the  same  as  your  draw- 
ing-room. Presently  two  men,  with  pipes  in  their  mouths,  come 
in  and  look  about  them.  I  explain  that  the  stage  is  ready  for 
them,  if  they  like  to  act ;  or  the  concert-room,  if  they  will  sing ; 
or  the  dancing-room,  should  they  wish  to  shake  a  leg.  They 
stare  and  they  go  away.  Then  we  shut  up  the  doors,  and  go 
away  and  cry." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Goslett,  have  you  no  other  comfort  for  me  ?" 

"  Plenty  of  comfort.  While  we  arc  all  crying,  somebody  has 
a  happy  thought.     I  think  it  is  Nelly." 

She  blushed  a  pretty  rosy  red.  "  I  am  sure  I  could  never 
suggest  anything." 

*'  Nelly  suggests  that  we  shall  offer  prizes,  a  quantity  of  prizes, 
for  competition  in  everything,  the  audience  or  the  spectators  to 
be  judges ;  and  then  the  palace  will  be  filled  and  the  universal 
reign  of  joy  will  begin." 

"  Can  we  afford  prizes  ?"  asked  Angela,  the  practical. 

"Miss  Kennedy,"  said  Harry,  severely,  "permit  me  to  remind 
you  that,  in  carrying  out  this  project,  money,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  world's  history,  is  to  be  of  no  value." 

If  Newnham  does  not  teach  women  to  originate — which  a 
thousand  Newnhams  will  never  do — it  teaches  them  to  catch  at 
an  idea  and  develop  it.  The  young  workman  suggested  her 
palace  ;  but  his  first  rough  idea  was  a  poor  thing  compared  with 
Angela's  finished  structure — a  wigwam  beside  a  castle,  a  taber- 
nacle beside  a  cathedral.  Angela  was  devising  an  experiment 
the  like  of  which  has  never  yet  been  tried  upon  restless  and  dis- 
satisfied mankind.  She  was  going,  in  short,  to  say  to  them: 
"Life  is  full,  crammed  full,  overflowing  with  all  kinds  of  de- 
lights. It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  only  rich  people  can  en- 
joy these  things.  They  may  buy  them,  but  everybody  may 
create  them ;  they  cost  nothing.  You  shall  learn  music,  and 
forthwith  all  the  world  will  be  transformed  for  you ;  you  shall 
learn  to  paint,  to  carve,  to  model,  to  design,  and  the  day  shall  be 
too  short  to  contain  the  happiness  you  will  get  out  of  it.  You 
shall  learn  to  dance,  and  know  the  rapture  of  the  waltz.  You 
shall  learn  tlie  great  art  of  acting,  and  give  each  other  the  pleas- 
ure which  rich  men  buy.  You  shall  even  learn  the  great  art  of 
writing,  and  learn  the  magic  of  a  charmed  phrase.  All  these 
things  which  make  the  life  of  rich  people  happy  shall  be  yours ; 


172  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

and  thoy  shall  cost  you  nothing.  What  the  heart  of  man  can 
desire  shall  be  yours,  and  for  nothing.  I  will  give  you  a  house 
to  shelter  you,  and  rooms  in  Avhich  to  play ;  you  have  only  to 
find  the  rest.  Enter  in,  my  friends ;  forget  the  squalid  past ; 
here  are  great  halls  and  lovely  corridors — they  are  yours.  Fill 
them  with  sweet  echoes  of  dropping  music;  let  the  walls  be 
covered  with  your  works  of  art;  let  the  girls  laugh  and  the 
boys  be  happy  within  these  walls.  I  give  you  the  shell,  the 
empty  carcass ;  fill  it  with  the  Spirit  of  Content  and  Happiness." 
Would  they,  to  begin  Avith,  "  behave  according  ?"  It  was 
easy  to  bring  together  half  a  dozen  dressmakers :  girls  always 
like  behaving  nicely ;  would  the  young  men  be  equally  amena- 
ble ?  And  would  the  policeman  be  inevitable,  as  in  the  corri- 
dors of  a  theatre  ?  The  police,  however,  would  have  to  be  vol- 
untary, like  every  other  part  of  the  institution,  and  the  guardians 
of  the  peace  must,  like  the  performers  in  the  entertainments, 
give  their  services  for  nothing.  For  which  end,  Ilarry  suggest- 
ed, it  would  be  highly  proper  to  have  a  professor  of  the  noble 
art  of  self-defence,  with  others  of  fencing,  single-stick,  quarter- 
staff,  and  other  kindred  objects. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DICK     THE     RADICAL. 


In  the  early  days  of  winter,  the  walls  of  the  palace  being  now 
already  well  above  the  hoarding,  Angela  made  another  impor- 
tant convert.  This  was  no  other  than  Dick  Coppin,  the  cousin 
of  whom  mention  has  been  already  made. 

<'  I  will  bring  him  to  your  drawing-room,"  said  Harry.  "  That 
is,  if  he  will  come.  He  does  not  know  much  about  drawing- 
rooms,  but  he  is  a  great  man  at  the  Stepney  Advanced  Club.  He 
is  a  reddest  of  red-hot  Rads,  and  the  most  advanced  of  Republi- 
cans. I  do  not  think  he  would  himself  go  a-murdering  of  kings 
and  priests,  but  I  fancy  he  regards  these  things  as  accidents  nat- 
urally rising  out  of  a  pardonable  enthusiasm.  His  manners  are 
better  than  you  will  generally  find,  because  he  belongs  to  my 
own  gentle  craft.     You  shall  tame  him,  Miss  Kennedy." 

Angela  said  she  would  try.  . 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  173 

"  He  shall  learn  to  waltz,"  Harry  went  on.  "  This  will  con- 
vert him  from  a  fierce  Republican  to  a  merely  enthusiastic  Rad- 
ical. Then  he  shall  learn  to  sing  in  parts :  this  will  drop  him 
down  into  advanced  Liberalism.  And  if  you  can  persuade  him 
to  attend  your  evenings,  talk  with  the  girls,  or  engage  in  some 
art,  say  painting,  he  will  become,  quite  naturally,  a  mere  Con- 
servative." 

With  some  difficulty  Harry  persuaded  his  cousin  to  come 
with  him.  Dick  Coppin  was  not,  he  said  of  himself,  a  dangler 
after  girls'  apron-strings,  having  something  else  to  think  of; 
nor  was  he  attracted  by  the  promise,  held  out  by  his  cousin,  of 
music  and  singing.  But  he  came  under  protest,  because  music 
seemed  to  him  an  idle  thing  while  the  House  of  Lords  remained 
uudestroyed,  and  because  this  cousin  of  his  could  somehow  make 
him  do  pretty  nearly  what  he  pleased. 

He  was  a  man  of  Harry's  own  age ;  a  short  man,  with  some- 
what rough  and  rugged  features — strong,  and  not  without  the 
beauty  of  strength.  His  forehead  was  broad :  he  had  thick  eye- 
brows, the  thick  lips  of  one  who  speaks  much  in  public,  and  a 
straight  chin — the  chin  of  obstinacy.  His  eyes  were  bright  and 
full ;  his  hair  was  black  ;  his  face  was  oval ;  his  expression  was 
masterful ;  it  was  altogether  the  face  of  a  man  who  interested 
one.  Angela  thought  of  his  brother,  the  captain  in  the  Salva- 
tion Army :  this  man,  she  felt,  had  all  the  courage  of  the  other, 
with  more  common-sense ;  yet  one  who,  too,  might  become  a 
fanatic,  who  might  be  dangerous  if  he  took  the  wrong  side.  She 
shook  hands  with  him  and  welcomed  him.  Then  she  said  that 
she  wanted  dancing  men  for  her  evenings,  and  hoped  that  he 
could  dance.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Mr.  Coppin 
had  been  asked  that  question,  and  also  the  first  time  that  he  had 
thought  it  possible  that  any  man  in  his  senses,  except  a  sailor, 
should  be  expected  to  dance.  Of  course  he  could  not,  and  said 
so  bluntly,  sticking  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat-pockets,  which 
is  a  gesture  peculiar  to  the  trade,  if  you  care  to  notice  so  small 
a  fact. 

"  Your  cousin,"  said  Angela,  "  will  teach  you.  Mr.  Goslett, 
please  give  Mr.  Coppin  a  lesson  in  a  quadrille.  Nelly,  you  will 
be  his  partner.     Now,  if  you  will  make  up  the  set,  I  will  play." 

An  elderly  bishop  of  Calvinistic  principles  could  not  have 
been  more  astonished  than  was  this  young  workman.     He  had 


174  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

not  the  presence  of  mind  to  refuse.  Before  he  realized  liis  po- 
sition, he  was  standing  beside  his  partner ;  in  front  of  him  stood 
his  cousin,  also  with  a  partner ;  four  girls  made  up  the  set.  Then 
the  music  began,  and  he  was  dragged,  pushed,  hustled,  and  pulled 
this  way  and  that.  He  would  have  resented  this  treatment  but 
that  the  girls  took  such  pains  to  set  him  right,  and  evidently  re- 
garded the  lesson  as  one  of  the  greatest  importance.  Nor  did 
they  cease  until  he  had  discerned  what  the  mathematician  called 
the  Law  of  the  Quadrille,  and  could  tread  the  measure  with  some 
approach  to  accuracy. 

"  We  shall  not  be  satisfied,  Mr.  Coppin,"  said  Angela,  when 
the  quadrille  was  finished,  "  until  we  have  taught  everybody  to 
dance." 

"  What  is  the  good  of  dancing  ?"  he  asked,  good-humoredly, 
but  a  good  deal  humiliated  by  the  struggle. 

*'  Dancing  is  graceful :  dancing  is  a  good  exercise :  dancing 
should  be  natural  to  young  people :  dancing  is  delightful. 
See — I  will  play  a  waltz  ;  now  watch  the  girls." 

She  played.  Instantly  the  girls  caught  each  other  by  the 
waist  and  whirled  round  the  room  with  brightened  eyes  and 
parted  lips.  Harry  took  Nelly  in  the  close  embrace  which  ac- 
companies the  German  dance,  and  swiftly,  easily,  gracefully 
danced  round  the  room. 

"  Is  it  not  happiness  that  you  are  witnessing,  Mr.  Coppin  ?" 
asked  Angela.  "  Tell  me,  did  you  ever  see  dressmakers  happy 
before  ?  You,  too,  shall  learn  to  waltz.  I  will  teach  you,  but 
not  to-night." 

Then  they  left  off  dancing  and  sat  down,  talking  and  laugh- 
ing. Harry  took  his  violin  and  discoursed  sweet  music,  to  which 
they  listened  or  not  as  they  listed.  Only  the  girl  who  was  lame 
looked  on  with  rapt  and  eager  face. 

"  See  her !"  said  Angela,  pointing  her  out.  "  She  has  found 
what  her  soul  was  ignorantly  desiring.  She  has  found  music. 
Tell  me,  Mr.  Coppin,  if  it  were  not  for  the  music  and  this  room, 
what  would  that  poor  child  be  ?" 

He  made  no  reply.  Never  before  had  he  witnessed,  never 
had  he  suspected,  such  an  evening.  There  were  the  girls  whom 
he  despised,  who  laughed  and  jested  with  the  lads  in  the  street, 
who  talked  loud  and  were  foolish.  Why,  they  were  changed. 
What  did  it  mean  ?     And  who  was  this  young  woman,  who 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  l75 

looked  and  spoke  as  no  other  woman  lie  had  ever  met,  yet  was 
only  a  dressmaker  ? 

"  I  have  heard  of  you,  Mr.  Coppin,"  this  young  person  said, 
in  her  queenlike  manner,  "  and  I  am  glad  that  you  have  come. 
We  shall  expect  you,  now^,  every  Saturday  evening.  I  hear  that 
you  are  a  political  student." 

"  I  am  a  Republican,"  he  replied.  "That's  about  what  I  am." 
Again  he  stuck  his  thumbs  into  his  waistcoat-pockets. 

"  Yes.  You  do  not  perhaps  quite  understand  what  it  is  that 
we  are  doing  here,  do  you  ?  In  a  small  way — it  is  quite  a  lit- 
tle thing — it  may  interest  even  a  political  student  like  your- 
self. The  interests  of  milliners  and  dressmakers  are  very  small 
compared  with  the  House  of  Lords.  Still — your  sisters  and 
cousins — " 

"  It  seems  pleasant,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  don't  all  get  set 
up  with  high  notions.  As  for  me,  I  am  for  root-and-branch 
Reform." 

"  Yes ;  but  all  improvement  in  government  means  improve- 
ment of  the  people,  does  it  not  ?  Else,  I  see  no  reason  for  try- 
ing to  improve  a  government." 

He  made  no  reply.  He  was  so  much  accustomed  to  the  vague 
denunciations  and  cheap  rhetoric  of  his  class,  that  a  small  prac- 
tical point  was  strange  to  him. 

"Now,"  said  Angela,  "I  asked  your  cousin  to  bring  you 
here,  because  I  learn  that  you  are  a  man  of  great  mental  activ- 
ity, and  likely,  if  you  are  properly  directed,  to  be  of  great  use 
to  us." 

He  stared  again.  Who  was  this  dressmaker  who  spoke  about 
directing  him  ?  The  same  uncomfortable  feeling  came  over 
him,  a  cold  doubt  about  himself,  which  he  often  felt  when  in 
the  society  of  his  cousin.  No  man  likes  to  feel  that  he  is  not 
perfectly  and  entirely  right,  and  that  he  must  be  right. 

"We  are  a  society,"  she  went  on,  "of  girls  who  want  to  work 
for  ourselves :  we  all  of  us  belong  to  your  class :  we  therefore 
look  to  you  for  sympathy  and  assistance.  Yet  you  hold  aloof 
from  us.  We  have  had  some  support  here  already,  but  none 
from  the  people  who  ought  most  to  sympathize  with  us.  That 
is,  I  suppose,  because  you  know  nothing  about  us.  Very  well, 
then.  While  your  cousin  is  amusing  those  girls,  I  will  tell  you 
about  our  association." 


176  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"Now  you  understand,  Mr.  Coppin.  You  men  have  long 
since  organized  yourselves — it  is  our  turn  now ;  and  we  look  to 
you  for  help.  We  are  not  going  to  Avoi'k  any  longer  for  a  mas- 
ter :  we  are  not  going  to  work  long  hours  any  longer :  and  we 
are  going  to  get  time  every  day  for  fresh  air,  exercise,  and 
amusement.  You  are  continually  occupied,  I  believe,  at  your 
club,  in  denouncing  the  pleasures  of  the  rich.  But  we  are  actu- 
ally going  to  enjoy  all  those  pleasures  ourselves,  and  they  will 
cost  us  nothing.  Look  round  this  room — we  have  a  piano  lent 
us :  there  is  your  cousin  with  his  fiddle,  and  Captain  Sorensen 
with  his :  we  are  learning  part-songs,  which  cost  us  three-half- 
pence each :  we  dance :  we  play :  we  read — a  subscription  to 
Smith's  is  only  three  guineas  a  year :  we  have  games  which  are 
cheap :  the  whole  expense  of  our  evenings  is  the  fire  in  winter 
and  the  gas.  On  Saturday  evening  we  have  some  cake  and 
lemonade,  which  one  of  the  girls  makes  for  us.  What  can  rich 
people  have  more  than  society,  lights,  music,  singing,  and  danc- 
ing ?" 

He  was  silent,  wondering  at  this  thing. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Mr.  Coppin,  that  if  we  are  successful  we  shall 
be  the  cause  of  many  more  such  associations  ?  Don't  you  see, 
that  if  we  could  get  our  principle  established,  we  should  accom- 
plish a  greater  revolution  than  the  overthrow  of  the  Lords  and 
the  Church,  and  one  far  more  beneficial  ?" 

"  You  can't  succeed,"  he  said.     "  It  has  been  tried  before." 

"  Yes :  by  men  :  I  know  it.  And  it  has  always  broken  down 
because  the  leaders  were  false  to  their  principles  and  betrayed 
the  cause." 

"  Where  are  the  girls  to  get  money  to  start  with  ?" 

"  We  are  fortunate,"  Angela  replied.  "  We  have  this  house 
and  furniture  given  to  us  by  a  lady  interested  in  us.  That,  I 
own,  is  a  great  thing.  But  other  rich  people  will  be  found  to 
do  as  much.  Why,  how  much  better  it  is  than  leaving  money 
to  hospitals !" 

"  Rich  people  !"  he  echoed,  with  contempt. 

"  Yes :  rich  people,  of  whom  you  know  so  little,  Mr.  Coppin, 
that  I  think  you  ought  to  be  very  careful  how  you  speak  of 
them.  But  think  of  us — look  at  the  girls.  Do  they  not  look 
happier  than  they  used  to  look  ?" 

He  replied  untruthfully,  because  he  was  not  going  to  give  in 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  177 

to  a  woman  all  of  a  sudden,  that  he  did  not  remember  how  they 
used  to  look,  but  that  undoubtedly  they  now  looked  very  well. 
He  did  not  say — which  he  felt — that  they  were  behaving  more 
quietly  and  modestly  than  he  had  ever  known  them  to  behave. 

"  You,"  Angela  went  on,  with  a  little  emphasis  on  the  pro- 
noun, which  made  her  speech  a  delicate  flattery,  "you,  Mr.  Cop- 
pin,  cannot  fail  to  observe  how  the  evening's  relaxation  helps  to 
raise  the  whole  tone  of  the  girls.  The  music  which  they  hear 
sinks  into  their  hearts  and  lifts  them  above  the  little  cares  of 
their  lives :  the  dancing  makes  them  merry  :  the  social  life,  the 
talk  among  ourselves,  the  books  they  read,  all  help  to  maintain 
a  pure  and  elevated  tone  of  thought — I  declare,  Mr.  Coppin,  I 
no  longer  know  these  girls.  And  then  they  bring  their  friends, 
and  so  their  influence  spreads.  They  will  not,  I  hope,  remain  in 
the  workrooms  all  their  lives.  A  woman  should  be  married — do 
not  you  think  so,  Mr.  Coppin  ?" 

He  was  too  much  astonished  at  the  whole  conversation  to 
make  any  coherent  reply. 

"  I  think  you  have  perhaps  turned  your  attention  too  much 
to  politics,  have  you  not  ?  Yet  practical  questions  ought  to  in- 
terest you." 

"They  say,  at  the  club,"  he  answered,  "that  this  place  is  a 
sham  and  a  humbug." 

"  Will  you  bring  your  friends  here  to  show  them  that  it  is 
not?" 

"  Harry  stood  up  for  you  the  other  night.  He's  plucky,  and 
they  like  him,  for  all  he  looks  like  a  swell." 

"  Does  he  speak  at  your  club  ?" 

"  Sometimes — not  to  say  speak.  He  gets  up  after  the  speech, 
and  says  so  and  so  is  wrong.  Yet  they  like  him — because  he 
isn't  afraid  to  say  what  he  thinks.  They  call  him  Gentleman 
Jack." 

"  I  thought  he  was  a  brave  man,"  said  Angela,  looking  at 
Harry,  who  was  rehearsing  some  story  to  the  delight  of  Nelly 
and  the  girls. 

"  Yes — the  other  night  they  were  talking  about  you,  and  one 
said  one  thing,  and  one  said  another,  and  a  chap  said  he  thought 
he'd  seen  you  in  a  West  End  music-hall,  and  he  didn't  believe 
you  were  any  better  than  you  should  be." 

"  Oh  !"     She  shrank  as  if  she  had  been  struck  some  blow. 
8* 


178  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"He  didn't  say  it  twice.  After  he'd  knocked  him  down, 
Harry  invited  that  chap  to  stand  up  and  liave  it  out.  But  he 
wouldn't." 

It  was  a  great  misfortune  for  Harry  that  he  lost  the  soft  and 
glowing  look  of  gratitude  and  admiration  which  was  quite  wast- 
ed upon  him.  For  he  was  at  the  very  point,  the  critical  point, 
of  the  story. 

Angela  had  made  another  convert.  When  Dick  Coppin  went 
home  that  night  he  was  humbled  but  pensive.  Here  was  a 
thing  of  which  he  had  never  thought — and  here  was  a  woman 
the  like  of  whom  he  had  never  imagined.  The  House  of  Lords, 
the  Church,  the  Land  Laws  presented  no  attraction  that  night 
for  his  thoughts.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  ho  felt  the  inllu-> 
ence  of  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DOWN    ON    THEIR   LUCK. 


Engaged  in  these  pursuits,  neither  Angela  nor  Harry  paid 
much  heed  to  the  circle  at  the  boarding-house,  where  they  were 
still  nominally  boarders.  For  Angela  was  all  day  long  at  her 
association,  and  her  general  assistant,  or  prime-minister,  after  a 
hasty  breakfast,  hastened  to  his  daily  labor.  He  found  that  he 
was  left  entirely  to  his  own  devices:  work  came  in  which  he 
did  or  left  undone;  Miss  Messenger's  instructions  were  faith- 
fully carried  out,  and  his  independence  was  respected.  During 
work-time  he  planned  amusements  and  surprises  for  Miss  Ken- 
nedy and  her  girls,  or  he  meditated  upon  the  Monotony  of  Man, 
a  subject  which  I  may  possibly  explain  later  on ;  or,  when  he 
knocked  off,  he  would  go  and  see  the  draymen  roll  about  the 
heavy  casks  as  if  they  were  footballs ;  or  he  would  watch  the 
machinery  and  look  at  the  great  brown  mass  of  boiling  hops ;  or 
he  would  drop  suddenly  upon  his  cousin  Josephus,  and  observe 
him  faithfully  entering  names,  ticking  off  and  comparing,  just  as 
he  had  done  for  forty  years,  still  a  junior  clerk.  But  he  gave 
no  thought  to  the  boarders. 

One  evening,  however,  in  late  September,  he  happened  to  look 
in  towards  nine  o'clock,  the  hour  when  the  frugal  supper  was 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIOXS    OF    MEN.  1*79 

generally  spread.  The  usual  occupants  of  the  room  were  there, 
but  there  was  no  supper  on  the  table,  and  the  landlady  was  ab- 
sent. 

Harry  stood  in  the  doorway,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
carelessly  looking  at  the  group.  Suddenly  he  became  aware, 
with  a  curious  sinking  of  heart,  that  something  was  gone  wrong 
with  all  of  them.  They  were  all  silent,  all  sitting  bolt  upright, 
no  one  taking  the  least  notice  of  his  neighbor,  and  all  apparent- 
ly in  some  physical  pain. 

The  illustrious  pair  were  in  their  usual  places,  but  his  lord- 
ship, instead  of  looking  sleepy  and  sleepily  content,  as  was  his 
custom  at  the  evening  hour,  sat  bolt  upright  and  thrummed  the 
arm  of  his  chair  with  his  fingers,  restless  and  ill  at  ease ;  oppo- 
site to  him  sat  his  consort,  her  hands  tightly  clasped,  her  bright 
beady  eyes  gleaming  with  impatience,  which  might  at  any  mo- 
ment break  out  into  wrath.  Yet  the  case  was  completely  drawn 
up,  as  Harry  knew,  because  he  had  finished  it  himself,  and  it 
only  remained  to  make  a  clean  copy  before  it  was  "  sent  in  "  to 
the  lord  chancellor. 

As  for  the  professor,  he  was  seated  at  the  window,  his  legs 
curled  under  the  chair,  looking  moodily  across  Stepney  Green 
— into  space,  and  neglecting  his  experiments,  His  generally 
cheerful  face  wore  an  anxious  expression,  as  if  he  were  think- 
ing of  something  unpleasant,  which  would  force  itself  upon  his 
attention. 

Josephus  was  in  his  corner,  without  his  pipe,  and  more  than 
usually  melancholy.  His  sadness  always,  however,  increased  in 
the  evening,  so  that  he  hardly  counted. 

Daniel,  frowning  like  a  Rhine  Baron  of  the  good  old  time,  had 
his  books  before  him,  but  they  were  closed-  It  was  a  bad  sign 
that  even  the  Version  in  the  Hebrew  had  no  attraction  for  him. 

Mr.  Maliphant  alone  was  smiling.  His  smiles,  in  such  an  as- 
semblage of  melancholy  faces^  produced  an  incongruous  effect. 
The  atmosphere  was  charged  with  gloom  :  it  was  funereal :  in  the 
midst  of  it  the  gay  and  cheerful  countenance,  albeit  wrinkled,  of 
the  old  man  beamed  like  the  sun  impertinently  shining  amid  fog 
and  rain,  sleet  and  snow.  The  thing  was  absurd.  Harry  felt 
the  force  of  Miss  Kennedy's  remark  that  the  occupants  of  the 
room  reminded  her  of  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  flies,  or  of  ants, 
or  rooks,  or  people  in  an  omnibus,  each  of  whom  was  profoundly 


180  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

occupied  with  its  own  affairs  and  careless  of  its  neighbors.  Out 
of  six  in  the  room,  five  were  unhappy :  they  did  not  ask  for,  or 
expect,  the  sympathies  of  their  neighbors ;  they  did  not  reveal 
their  anxieties ;  they  sat  and  suffered  in  silence  ;  the  sixth  alone 
was  quite  cheerful ;  it  was  nothing  to  him  what  experiences  the 
rest  were  having,  whether  they  were  enjoying  the  upper  airs,  or 
enduring  hardness.  He  sat  in  his  own  place  near  the  professor ; 
he  laughed  aloud ;  he  even  talked  and  told  stories,  to  which  no 
one  listened.  When  Harry  appeared,  he  was  just  ending  a  story 
which  he  had  never  begun : 

"So  it  was  given  to  the  other  fellow.  And  he  came  from 
Baxter  Street,  close  to  the  City  Hall,  which  is  generally  allowed 
to  be  the  wickedest  street  in  New  York  city." 

He  paused  a  little,  laughed  cheerfully,  rubbed  his  dry  old  hands 
together,  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence,  and  then  concluded  his  story, 
having  filled  up  the  middle  in  his  own  mind  without  speech : 

"  And  so  he  took  to  the  coasting  trade  off  the  Andes." 

Harry  caught  the  eye  of  the  professor,  and  beckoned  him  to 
come  outside. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  taking  his  arm,  *'  What  the  devil  is  the  mat- 
ter with  all  of  you  ?" 

The  professor,  smiled  feebly  under  the  gas-lamp  in  the  street, 
and  instantly  relapsed  into  his  anxious  expression. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said — "  that  is,  I  guess,  because  they  haven't 
told  me,  that  it's  the  same  with  them  as  with  me." 

"  And  that  is—" 

The  professor  slapped  his  empty  pockets ; 

"Want  of  cash,"  he  said.  "I'm  used  to  it  in  the  autumn, 
just  before  the  engagements  begin.  Bless  you  !  It's  nothing 
to  me — though  when  you've  had  no  dinner  for  a  week,  you  do 
begin  to  feel  as  if  you  could  murder  and  roast  a  cat,  if  no  one 
was  looking.  I've  even  begun  to  wish  that  the  Eighth  Command- 
ment was  suspended  during  the  autumn." 

"  Do  you  mean,  man,  that  you  are  all  hungry  ?'* 

"  All  except  old  Maliphant,  and  he  doesn't  count.  Josephus 
had  some  dinner,  but  he  says  he  can't  afford  supper  and  dinner 
too,  at  the  rate  his  heels  wear  out.  Yes,  I  don't  suppose  there's 
been  a  dinner  apiece  among  us  for  the  last  week." 

"  Good  heavens  !"     Harry  hurried  off  to  find  the  landlady. 

She  was  in  the  kitchen  sitting  before  the  fire,  though  it  was  a 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  181 

warm  night.  She  looked  up  when  her  lodger  entered,  and  Harry 
observed  that  she,  too,  wore  an  air  of  dejection. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Borraalack  ?" 

She  groaned  and  wiped  away  a  tear. 

"  My  heart  bleeds  for  them,  Mr.  Goslett,"  she  said.  "  I  can't 
bear  to  set  eyes  on  them :  I  can't  face  them.  Because  to  do 
what  I  should  like  to  do  for  them  would  be  nothing  short  of 
ruin.     And  how  to  send  them  away  I  cannot  tell." 

He  nodded  his  head  encouragingly. 

"  You  are  a  young  man,  Mr.  Goslett,  and  you  don't  consider — 
and  you  are  thinking  day  and  night  of  that  sweet  young  thing, 
Miss  Kennedy.  And  she  of  you.  Oh !  you  needn't  blush :  a 
handsome  young  fellow  like  you  is  a  prize  for  any  woman,  how- 
ever good-looking.     Besides,  I've  got  eyes." 

"  Still,  that  does  not  help  us  much  to  the  point,  Mrs.  Borma- 
lack ;  which  is,  what  can  we  do  for  them  ?" 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  the  poor  things  don't  board  and  lodge  any 
more,  Mr.  Goslett.  They've  had  no  board  to-day.  If  I  did  what 
I  should  like  to  do — but  I  can't.  There's  the  rent  and  rates  and 
all.  And  how  I  can  keep  them  in  the  house,  unless  they  pay 
their  rent,  I  can't  tell.  I've  never  been  so  miserable  since  Cap- 
tain Saffrey  went  away,  owing  for  three  months." 

"  Not  enough  to  eat  ?" 

"  Lady  Davenant  came  to  me  this  morning,  and  paid  the  rent 
for  this  week,  but  not  the  board :  said  that  her  nephew  Nathaniel 
hadn't  sent  the  six  dollars,  and  they  could  only  have  breakfast, 
and  must  find  some  cheap  place  for  dinner  somewhere  else.  In 
the  middle  of  the  day  they  went  out.  Her  ladyship  put  quite  a 
chirpy  face  upon  it :  said  they  were  going  into  the  City  to  get 
dinner,  but  his  lordship  groaned.  Dinner !  They  came  home 
at  two,  and  his  groans  have  been  heartrending  all  the  afternoon. 
I  never  heard  such  groaning." 

"  Poor  old  man  1" 

"  And  there's  the  professor,  too.  It's  low  water  with  him.  No 
one  wants  conjuring  till  winter  comes.  But  he's  quite  used  to 
go  without  his  dinner.     You  needn't  mind  him  !" 

"  Eels,"  said  Harry,  "  are  used  to  being  skinned.  Yet  they 
wriggle  a  bit." 

He  produced  a  few  coins  and  proffered  a  certain  request  to 
the  landlady.     Then  he  returned  to  his  fellow-lodgers. 


182  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Presently  there  was  heard  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen  a 
cheerful  hissing,  followed  by  a  perfectly  divine  fragrance.  Dan- 
iel closed  his  eyes,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  The  professor 
smiled.  His  lordship  rolled  in  his  chair  and  groaned.  Present- 
ly Mrs.  Bormalack  appeared,  and  the  cloth  was  laid.  Ilis  lord- 
ship showed  signs  of  an  increasing  agitation.  The  fragrance 
increased.  He  leaned  forward,  clutching  the  arm  of  his  chair, 
looking  to  his  wife  as  if  for  help  and  guidance  at  this  most  dif- 
ficult crisis.  He  was  frightfully  hungry :  all  his  dinner  had  been 
a  biscuit  and  a  half,  his  wife  having  taken  the  other  half.  What 
is  a  biscuit  and  a  half  to  one  accustomed  to  the  flesh-pots  of 
Canaan  City? 

*'  Clara  Martha,"  he  groaned,  trying  to  whisper,  but  failing  in 
his  agitation,  "  I  must  have  some  of  that  beefsteak  or  I  shall — " 

Here  he  relapsed  into  silence  again. 

It  was  not  from  a  desire  to  watch  the  sufferings  of  the  un- 
lucky peer,  or  in  order  to  laugh  at  them,  that  Harry  hesitated  to 
invite  him.     Now,  however,  he  hesitated  no  longer. 

"  I  am  giving  a  little  supper  to-night.  Lady  Davenant,  to — to 
— celebrate  my  birthday.  May  I  hope  that  you  and  his  lordship 
will  join  us  ?" 

Her  ladyship  most  affably  accepted. 

Well,  they  were  fed ;  they  made  up  for  the  meagreness  of 
the  midday  meal  by  such  a  supper  as  should  be  chronicled,  so 
lairge,  so  generous  was  it.  Such  a  supper,  said  the  professor,  as 
should  carry  a  man  along  for  a  week,  were  it  not  for  the  foolish 
habit  of  getting  hungry  twice  at  least  in  the  four-and-twenty 
houfs.  After  supper  they  all  became  cheerful,  and  presently 
went  to  bed  as  ha\ipy  as  if  there  were  no  to-morrow,  and  the 
next  day's  dinner  was  assured. 

.  When  they  were  gone,  Harry  began  to  smoke  his  evening 
pipe.  Then  he  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  two  who 
were  left — his  cousin  Josephus  and  old  Mr.  Maliphant. 

The  former  was  sitting  in  gloomy  silence,  and  the  latter  was 
making  as  if  he  would  say  something,  but  thought  better  of  it, 
and  smiled  instead. 

"  Josephus,"  said  Harry,  "  what  the  devil  makes  you  j'» 
gloomy  ?     You  can't  be  hungry  still  ?" 

"No,"  he  replied.  "It  isn't  that:  a  junior  clerk  fifty-five 
years  ('Id  has  no  right  to  get  hungry." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  183 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  They  talk  of  changes  in  the  office,  that  is  all.  Some  of  the 
juniors  will  be  promoted ;  not  me,  of  course  ;  and  some  will  have 
to  go.  After  forty  years  in  the  Brewery,  I  shall  have  to  go. 
That's  all." 

"  Seems  rough,  doesn't  it  ?  Can't  you  borrow  a  handful  of 
malt,  and  set  up  a  little  brewery  for  yourself  ?" 

"  It  is  only  starvation.  After  all,  it  doesn't  matter — nobody 
cares  what  happens  to  a  junior  clerk.  There  are  plenty  more. 
And  the  workhouse  is  said  to  be  well  managed.  Perhaps  they 
will  let  me  keep  their  accounts." 

"  When  do  you  think — the — the  reduction  will  be  made?" 

"  Next  month,  they  say." 

"  Come,  cheer  up,  old  man,"  said  his  cousin.  "  Why,  if  they 
do  turn  you  out — which  would  be  a  burning  shame — you  can 
find  something  better." 

"  No,"  replied  Josephus,  sadly,  "  I  know  my  place.  I  am  a 
junior  clerk.  They  can  be  got  to  do  my  work  at  seven  bob  a 
week.     Ah  !  in  thousands." 

"  Well,  but  can't  you  do  anything  else  ?" 

"  Nothing  else." 

"  In  all  these  years,  man,  have  you  learned  nothing  at  all  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

Is  there,  thought  Harry,  gazing  upon  his  luckless  cousin,  a  con- 
dition more  miserable  than  that  of  the  cheap  clerk?  In  early 
life  he  learns  to  spell,  to  read,  to  write,  and  perhaps  to  keep  books, 
but  this  only  if  he  is  ambitious.  Here  his  education  ends:  he 
has  no  desire  to  learn  anything  more :  he  falls  into  whatever 
place  he  can  get,  and  then  he  begins  a  life  iu  which  there  is  no 
hope  of  preferment  and  no  endeavor  after  better  things.  There 
are,  in  every  civilized  country,  thousands  and  thousands  of  these 
helpless  and  hopeless  creatures :  they  mostly  suffer  in  silence,  be- 
ing at  the  best  ill-fed  and  ill-paid ;  but  they  sometimes  utter  a 
feeble  moan,  when  one  of  them  can  be  found  with  vitality  enough, 
about  their  pay  and  prospects :  no  one  has  yet  told  them  the 
honest  truth,  that  they  are  already  paid  as  much  as  they  deserve : 
that  their  miserable  accomplishments  cannot  for  a  moment  be 
compared  Avith  the  skill  of  an  artisan:  that  they  are  self-con- 
demned because  they  make  no  effort.  They  have  not  even  the 
energy  to  make  a  Union  :  they  have  not  the  sense  of  self-protec 
N 


184  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

tion :  they  are  content,  if  they  are  not  hungry,  if  they  have  to- 
bacco to  smoke  and  beer  to  drink. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you — did — whatever  it  was  you  did, 
that  kept  you  down  ?"  asked  the  younger  man,  at  length. 

"  I  did  nothing.  It  Avas  an  accident.  Unless,"  added  Jose- 
phus,  with  a  smile — "  unless  it  was  the  devil.  But  devils  don't 
care  to  meddle  with  junior  clerks." 

"  AVhat  was  the  accident  then  ?" 

"  It  was  one  day  in  June  ;  I  remember  the  day,  quite  well.  I 
was  alone  in  my  office,  the  same  office  as  I  am  in  still.  The 
others,  younger  than  myself,  and  I  was  then  twenty-one,  were 
off  on  business.  The  safe  stood  close  to  my  desk.  There  was 
a  bundle  of  papers  in  it  sealed  up,  and  marked  "  Mr.  Messenger, 
Private,"  which  had  been  there  a  goodish  while,  so  that  I  sup- 
pose they  were  not  important :  some  of  the  books  were  there  as 
well,  and  Mr.  Messenger  himself  had  sent  down,  only  an  hour 
before — before — It  happened,  a  packet  of  notes  to  be  paid  into 
the  bank.  The  money  had  been  brought  in  by  our  country  col- 
lectors— fourteen  thousand  pounds,  in  country  bank-notes.  Now 
remember,  I  was  sitting  at  the  desk  and  the  safe  was  locked,  and 
the  keys  were  in  the  desk,  and  no  one  was  in  the  office  except 
me.  And  I  will  swear  that  the  notes  were  in  the  safe.  I  told 
Mr.  Messenger  that  I  would  take  ray  oath  to  it,  and  I  would 
stiU."  Josephus  grew  almost  animated  as  he  approached  the 
important  point  in  his  history. 

"  Well  ?" 

"  Things  being  so — remember,  no  one  but  me  in  the  office, 
and  the  keys — " 

"  I  remember.     Get  along." 

"  I  was  sent  for." 

"  By  Mr.  Messenger  ?" 

"  Mr,  Messenger  didn't  send  for  junior  clerks.  He  used  to 
send  for  the  heads  of  departments,  who  sent  for  the  chief  clerks, 
who  ordered  the  juniors.  That  was  the  way  in  those  days.  No, 
I  was  sent  for  to  the  chief  clerk's  office  and  given  a  packet  of 
letters  for  copying.  That  took  three  minutes.  When  I  came 
back  the  office  was  still  empty,  the  safe  was  locked  and  the  keys 
in  my  desk." 

"Well?" 

"  Well — ^but  the  safe  was  empty  1" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  185 

"  What !  all  the  money  gone  ?" 

"All  gone,  every  farthing — ^with  Mr.  Messenger's  private 
papers." 

'*  What  a  strange  thing  !" 

"  No  one  saw  anybody  going  into  the  office  or  coming  out. 
Nothing  else  was  taken." 

"  Come — with  £14,000  in  his  hand,  no  reasonable  thief  would 
ask  for  more." 

"  And,  what  is  more  extraordinary  still,  not  one  of  those  notes 
has  ever  since  been  presented  for  payment." 

"  And  then,  I  suppose,  there  was  a  row." 

Josephus  assented. 

"  First,  I  was  to  be  sacked  at  once  ;  then  I  was  to  be  watched 
and  searched ;  next,  I  was  to  be  kept  on  until  the  notes  were 
presented  and  the  thief  caught.  I  have  been  kept  on,  the  notes 
have  not  been  presented ;  and  I've  had  the  same  pay,  neither 
more  nor  less,  all  the  time.  That's  all  the  story.  Now,  there's 
to  be  an  end  of  that.     I'm  to  be  sent  away." 

Mr.  Maliphant  had  not  been  listening  to  the  story  at  all,  being 
pleasantly  occupied  with  his  own  reminiscences.  At  this  point 
one  of  them  made  him  laugh  and  rub  his  hands. 

"  When  Mr.  Messenger's  father  married  Susannah  Coppin,  I 
have  heard — " 

Here  he  stopped. 

"  Hallo  !"  cried  Harry.  "  Go  on  Venerable.  Why,  we  are 
cousins,  or  nephews,  or  something,  of  Miss  Messenger.  Josephus, 
my  boy,  cheer  up  !" 

Mr.  Maliphant's  memory  now  jumped  over  two  generations,  and 
he  went  on : 

"  Caroline  Coppin  married  a  sergeant  in  the  army,  and  a  hand- 
some lad — I  forget  his  name.  But  Mary  Coppin  married  Bunk- 
er. The  Coppins  were  a  good  old  Whitechapel  stock,  as  good 
as  the  Messengers.  As  for  Bunker,  he  was  an  upstart,  he  was ; 
and  came  from  Barking,  as  I  always  understood." 

Then  he  was  once  more  silent. 


186  ALL    SORTS   AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LADY     DAVENANT. 

It  was  a  frequent  custom  with  Lady  Davenant  to  sit  with  the 
girls  in  the  workroom  in  the  morning.  She  liked  to  have  a  place 
where  she  could  talk;  she  took  an  ex-professional  interest  in 
their  occupation  ;  she  had  the  eye  of  an  artist  for  their  interpre- 
tation of  the  fashion.  Moreover,  it  pleased  her  to  be  in  the  com- 
pany of  Miss  Kennedy,  who  was  essentially  a  woman's  woman. 
Men  who  are  so  unhappy  as  to  have  married  a  man's  woman  will 
understand  perfectly  what  I  mean.  On  the  morning  after  Harry's 
most  providential  birthday,  therefore,  when  she  appeared,  no  one 
was  in  the  least  disturbed.  But  to-day  she  did  not  greet  the 
girls  with  her  accustomed  stately  inclination  of  the  head,  which 
implied  that,  although  now  a  peeress,  she  had  been  brought  up 
to  their  profession  and  in  a  Republican  School  of  Thought,  and 
did  not  set  herself  up  above  her  neighbors.  Yet  respect  to  rank 
should  be  conceded,  and  was  expected.  In  general,  too,  she  was 
talkative,  and  enlivened  the  tedium  of  work  with  many  an  anec- 
dote illustrating  Canaan  City  and  its  ways,  or  showing  the  le- 
thargic manners  of  the  Davenants,  both  her  husband  and  his 
father,  to  say  nothing  of  the  grandfather,  contented  with  the 
lowly  occupation  of  a  wheelwright,  while  he  might  have  soared 
to  the  British  House  of  Lords.  This  morning,  however,  she  sat 
down  and  was  silent,  and  her  head  drooped.  Angela,  who  sat 
next  her  and  watched,  presently  observed  that  a  tear  formed  in 
her  eye  and  dropped  upon  her  work,  and  that  her  lips  moved  as 
if  she  were  holding  a  conversation  with  herself.  Thereupon  she 
arose,  put  her  hand  upon  the  poor  lady's  arm,  and  drew  her  away 
without  a  word  to  the  solitude  of  the  dining-room,  where  her 
ladyship  gave  way  and  burst  into  an  agony  of  sobbing. 

Angela  stood  before  her  saying  nothing.  It  was  best  to  let 
the  fit  have  its  way.  When  the  crying  was  nearly  over,  she  laid 
her  hand  upon  her  hair  and  gently  smoothed  it. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  187 

"  Poor  dear  lady !"  she  said.  "  AVill  you  tell  me  what  has 
happened  ?" 

"Everything,"  she  gasped.  '' Oh !  everything.  The  six  months 
are  gone,  all  but  one.  Nephew  Nathaniel  writes  to  say  that  as 
we  haven't  even  made  a  start,  all  this  time,  he  reckons  we  don't 
count  to  make  any,  and  he's  got  children,  and  as  for  business 
it's  got  down  to  the  hard-pan,  and  dollars  are  skurcc,  and  we 
may  come  back  again  right  away,  and  there's  the  money  for  the 
voyage  home  whenever  we  like,  but  no  more." 

"  Oh !"  said  Angela,  beginning  to  understand.  "  And — and 
your  husband?" 

"  There's  where  the  real  trouble  begins.  I  wouldn't  mind  for 
myself,  money  or  no  money.  I  would  write  to  the  queen  for 
money.  I  would  go  to  the  workhouse.  I  would  beg  my  bread 
in  the  street,  but  the  case  I  never  would  give  up — never — never 
— never." 

She  clasped  her  hands,  dried  her  eyes,  and  sat  bolt  upright, 
the  picture  of  unyielding  determination. 

"  And  your  husband  is  not,  perhaps,  so  resolute  as  yourself  ?" 

"  He  says, '  Clara  Martha,  let  us  go  hum.  As  for  the  title,  I 
would  sell  it  to  Nephew  Nathaniel,  who's  the  next  heir,  for  a 
week  of  square  meals ;  he  should  have  the  coronet,  if  I'd  got  it, 
for  a  month's  certainty  of  steaks  and  chops  and  huckleberry- 
pie  ;  and  as  for  my  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  he  should  have 
it  for  our  old  cottage  in  Canaan  City,  which  is  sold,  and  the 
school  which  I've  given  up  and  lost.'  He  says :  '  Pack  the  box, 
Clara  Martha — ^there  isn't  much  to  pack — and  we  will  go  at 
once.  If  the  American  minister  won't  take  up  the  case  for  us, 
I  guess  that  case  may  slide  till  Nathaniel  takes  it  up  for  him- 
self.' That  is  what  he  says,  Miss  Kennedy.  Those  were  his 
words.  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh,  Mr.  Feeblemind  !  Oh,  Mr.'  Facing- 
Both-Ways!" 

She  wrung  her  hands  in  despair,  for  it  seemed  as  if  her  hus- 
band would  be  proof  against  even  the  scorn  and  contempt  of 
these  epithets. 

*'  But  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 

*'  I  shall  stay,"  she  replied.  "  And  so  shall  he,  if  my  name 
is  Lady  Davenant.  Do  you  think  I  am  going  back  to  Canaan 
City  to  be  scorned  by  Aurelia  Tucker?  Do  you  think  I  shall 
let  that  poor  old  man,  who  has  his  good  side,  Miss  Kennedy — 


188  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

and  as  for  virtue,  he  is  an  angel,  and  knows  not  tlie  taste  of  to- 
bacco or  whiskey — face  his  nephew,  and  have  to  say  what  good 
he  has  done  with  all  those  dollars  ?  No,  here  we  stay."  She 
snapped  her  lips,  and  made  as  if  she  would  take  root  upon  that 
very  chair.  "  Shall  he  part  with  his  birthright  like  Esau,  be- 
cause he  is  hungry  ?  Never  !  The  curse  of  Esau  would  rest 
upon  us." 

"  He's  at  home  now,"  she  went  on,  "  preparing  for  another 
day  without  dinner ;  groans  won't  help  him  now ;  and  this  time 
there  will  be  no  supper — unless  Mr.  Goslett  has  another  birth- 
day." 

"  Why !    Good  gracious !  you  will  be  starved." 

"Better  starve  than  go  home  as  we  came.  Besides,  I  shall 
write  to  the  queen  when  there's  nothing  left.  When  Nathaniel's 
money  comes,  which  may  be  to-morrow,  and  may  be  next  month, 
I  shall  give  a  month's  rent  to  Mrs.  Bormalack,  and  save  the  rest 
for  one  meal  a  day.  Yes,  as  long  as  the  money  lasts,  he  shall  eat 
meat — once  a  day — at  noon.  He's  been  pampered,  like  all  the 
Canaan  City  folk;  set  up  with  turkey  roast  and  turkey  boiled, 
and  ducks  and  beef  every  day,  and  buckwheat  cakes  and  such. 
Oh !  a  change  of  diet  will  bring  down  his  luxury  and  increase 
his  pride." 

Angela  thought  that  starvation  was  a  new  way  of  developing 
pride  of  birth,  but  she  did  not  say  so. 

"  Is  there  no  way,"  she  asked,  "  in  which  he  can  earn  money  ?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  As  a  teacher  he  was  generally  allowed  to  be  learned  but 
sleepy.  In  our  city,  however,  the  boys  and  girls  didn't  expect 
too  much,  and  it's  a  sleepy  place.  In  winter,  they  sit  round  the 
stove  and  they  go  to  sleep ;  in  summer,  they  sit  in  the  shade 
and  they  go  to  sleep.  It's  the  sleepiest  place  in  the  States.  No, 
there's  no  kind  o'  way  in  which  he  can  earn  any  money.  And, 
if  there  were,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  British  peer  working  for 
his  daily  bread  ?" 

"  But  you.  Lady  Davenant  ?  Surely  your  ladyship  would  not 
mind — if  the  chance  offered — if  it  were  a  thing  kept  secret — 
if  not  even  your  husband  knew — would  not  object  to  earning 
something  every  week  to  find  that  square  meal  which  your  hus- 
band so  naturally  desires  ?" 

Her  ladyship  held  out  her  hands,  without  a  word. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  189 

Angela,  in  shameful  contempt  of  political  economy,  placed  in 
them  the  work  which  she  had  in  her  own,  and  whispered : 

"  You  had  better,"  she  said,  "  take  a  week  in  advance.  Then 
you  can  arrange  with  Mrs.  Bormalack  for  the  usual  meals  on  the 
old  terms ;  and  if  you  would  rather  come  here  to  work,  you  can 
have  this  room  to  yourself  all  the  morning.  Thank  you,  Lady 
Davenant.  The  obligation  is  entirely  mine,  you  know.  For, 
really,  more  delicate  work,  more  beautiful  work,  I  never  saw. 
Do  all  American  ladies  work  so  beautifully  ?" 

Her  ladyship,  quite  overcome  with  these  honeyed  words,  took 
the  work  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Only  one  thing,  dear  Lady  Davenant,"  Angela  went  on,  smil- 
ing. "  You  must  promise  me  not  to  work  too  hard.  You 
know  that  such  work  as  yours  is  worth  at  least  twice  as  much 
as  mine.     And  then  you  can  push  on  the  case,  you  know." 

The  little  lady  rose,  and  threw  her  arms  round  Angela's  neck. 

*'  My  dear !"  she  cried,  with  more  tears.  "  You  are  every- 
body's friend.  Oh,  yes,  I  know !  And  how  you  do  it  and  all — 
I  can't  think,  nor  Mrs.  Bormalack  neither.  But  the  day  may 
come — it  shall  come — when  we  can  show  our  gratitude." 

She  retired,  taking  the  work  with  her. 

Her  husband  was  asleep  as  usual,  for  he  had  had  breakfast, 
and  as  yet  the  regular  pangs  of  noon  were  not  active.  The  case 
was  not  spread  out  before  him,  as  was  usual,  ever  since  Mr,  Gos- 
lett  had  taken  it  in  hand.  It  was  ostentatiously  rolled  up,  and 
laid  on  the  table,  as  if  packed  ready  for  departure  by  the  next 
mail. 

His  wife  regarded  him  with  a  mixture  of  affection  and  con- 
tempt. 

"  He  would  sell  the  crown  of  England,"  she  murmured, "  for 
roast  turkey  and  apple-fixin's.  The  Davenants  couldn't  have 
been  always  like  that.  It  must  be  his  mother's  blood.  Yet  she 
was  a  church  member,  and  walked  consistent." 

She  did  not  wake  him  up,  but  sought  out  Mrs.  Bormalack,  and 
presently  there  was  a  transfer  of  coins  and  the  resurrection  of 
smiles  and  Doux  Parler,  that  fairy  of  sweet  speech,  who  cowers 
and  hides  beneath  the  cold  wind  of  poverty. 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Goslett,"  said  Angela  that  evening,  still  think- 
ing over  the  sad  lot  of  the  claimants — "  tell  me :  you  have  ex' 
amined  the  claim  of  these  people — what  chance  have  they  ?" 


190  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN. 

"  I  should  say,  none  whatever." 

"  Then,  what  makes  them  so  confident  of  success  ?" 

"  Hush !  listen.  They  are  not  really  confident.  His  noble 
lordship  perfectly  understands  the  weakness  of  his  claim,  which 
depends  upon  a  pure  assumption,  as  you  shall  hear.  As  for  the 
little  lady,  his  wife,  she  has  long  since  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  assumption  requires  no  proof.  Therefore,  save  in  mo- 
ments of  dejection,  she  is  pretty  confident.  Then,  they  are 
hopelessly  ignorant  of  how  they  should  proceed  and  of  the 
necessary  delays,  even  if  their  case  was  unanswerable.  They 
thought  they  had  only  to  cross  the  ocean  and  send  in  a  state- 
ment in  order  to  get  admitted  to  the  rank  and  privilege  of  the 
peerage.  And  I  believe  they  think  that  the  queen  will,  in  some 
mysterious  way,  restore  the  property  to  them." 

"  Poor  things !" 

"  Yes,  it's  rather  sad  to  think  of  such  magnificent  expecta- 
tions. Besides,  it  really  is  a  most  beautiful  case.  The  last  Lord 
Davenant  had  one  son.  That  only  son  grew  up,  had  some  quar- 
rel with  his  father,  and  sailed  from  the  port  of  Bristol  bound 
for  some  American  port,  I  forget  which.  Neither  he  nor  his 
ship  was  ever  heard  of  again.  Therefore  the  title  became  ex- 
tinct." 

"Well?" 

"  Very  good.  Now  the  story  begins.  His  name  was  Timo- 
thy Clitheroe  Davenant,  the  name  always  given  to  the  eldest  son 
of  the  family.  Now,  our  friend's  name  is  Timothy  Clitheroe 
Davenant,  and  so  was  his  father's,  and  so  was  his  grandfather's." 

"  That  is  very  strange." 

"  It  is  very  strange ;  what  is  stranger  still  is,  that  his  grand- 
father was  born,  according  to  the  date  on  his  tomb,  the  same 
year  as  the  lost  heir,  and  at  the  same  place — Davenant,  where 
was  the  family  seat." 

"  Can  there  have  been  two  of  the  same  name  born  in  the  same 
place  and  in  the  same  year  ?" 

"  It  seems  improbable,  almost  impossible.  Moreover,  the  last 
lord  had  no  brother,  nor  had  his  father,  the  second  lord.  I  found 
that  out  at  the  Herald's  College.  Consequently,  even  if  there 
were  another  branch,  and  the  birth  of  two  Timothys  in  the  same 
year  was  certain,  they  would  not  get  the  title.  So  that  their 
one  hope  is  to  be  able  to  prove  what  they  call  the  connection. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  191 

That  is  to  say,  tlie  identity  of  the  lost  heir  with  this  wheel- 
wright." 

"  That  seems  a  very  doubtful  thing  to  do,  after  all  these  years." 

"  It  is  absolutely  impossible,  unless  some  documents  are  dis- 
covered which  prove  it.  But  nothing  remains  of  the  wheel- 
wright." 

"  No  book  ?     No  papers  ?" 

"  Nothing,  except  a  small  book  of  songs,  supposed  to  be  con- 
vivial, with  his  name  on  the  inside  cover,  written  in  a  sprawling 
hand,  and  misspelled  with  two  v's,  "  Davvenant,"  and  above  the 
name,  in  the  same  hand,  the  day  of  the  week  in  which  it  was 
written,  "  Satturday,"  with  two  t's.     No  Christian  name." 

"  Does  it  not  seem  as  if  the  absence  of  the  Christian  name 
would  point  to  the  assumption  of  the  title  f ' 

"  Yes :  they  do  not  know  this,  and  I  have  not  yet  told  them. 
It  is,  however,  a  very  small  point,  and  quite  insufficient  in  itself 
to  establish  anything." 

"  Yes,"  Angela  mused.  She  was  thinking  whether  something 
could  not  be  done  to  help  these  poor  people  and  settle  the  case 
decisively  for  them  one  way  or  the  other.  "  What  is  to  be  the 
end  of  it  ?" 

Harry  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Who  knows  how  long  they  can  go  on  ?  When  there  are  no 
more  dollars,  they  must  go  home  again.  I  hear  they  have  got 
another  supply  of  money :  Mrs.  Bormalack  has  been  paid  for  a 
fortnight  in  adyance.  After  that  is  gone — perhaps  they  had 
better  go  too." 

"  It  seems  a  pity,"  said  Angela,  slightly  reddening  at  mention 
of  the  money,  "  that  some  researches  could  not  be  made,  so  as 
to  throw  a  little  light  upon  this  strange  coincidence  of  names." 

"  We  should  want  to  know  first  what  to  look  for.  After  that, 
we  should  have  to  find  a  man  to  conduct  the  search.  And  then 
we  should  have  to  pay  him." 

"  As  for  the  man,  there  is  the  professor :  as  for  the  place,  first 
there  is  the  Herald's  College,  and  secondly,  there  are  the  parish 
registers  of  the  village  of  Davenant ;  and  as  for  the  money,  why, 
it  would  not  cost  much,  and  I  believe  something  might  be  ad- 
vanced for  them.  If  you  and  I,  Mr.  Goslett,  between  us,  Avere 
to  pay  the  professor's  expenses,  would  he  go  about  for  us  ?" 

She  seemed  to  assume  that  he  was  quite  ready  to  join  her  in 


192  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

giving  his  money  for  this  object.  Yet  Harry  was  now  living, 
having  refused  his  guardian's  proffered  allowance,  on  his  pay  by 
the  piece,  which  gave  him,  as  already  stated,  tenpence  for  every 
working-hour. 

"  What  would  the  professor  cost  ?"  she  asked. 

*'  The  professor  is  down  upon  his  luck,"  said  Harry.  "  He  is 
so  hard  up  at  present  that  I  believe  we  could  get  him  for  noth- 
ing but  his  expenses.  Eighteen  shillings  a  week  would  buy  him 
outright  until  his  engagements  begin  again.  If  there  were  any 
travelling  expenses,  of  course  that  would  be  an  extra.  But  the 
village  of  Davenant  is  not  a  great  way  off.  It  is  situated  in  Es- 
sex, and  Essex  is  but  a  suburb  of  London,  its  original  name  hav- 
ing been  East-End-seaxas,  which  is  not  generally  known." 

"  Very  well,"  she  replied,  gravely.  "  That  would  be  only  nine 
shillings  apiece,  say  eleven  hours  of  extra  work  for  you;  and 
probably  it  would  not  last  long,  more  than  a  week  or  two.  Will 
you  give  two  hours  a  day  to  his  lordship  ?" 

Harry  made  a  wry  face,  and  laughed.  This  young  person  had 
begun  by  turning  him  into  a  journeyman  cabinet-maker,  and  was 
now  making  him  work  extra  time.     What  next  ? 

"  Am  I  not  your  slave.  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

**  Oh,  Mr.  Goslett !  I  thought  there  was  to  be  no  more  non- 
sense of  that  kind.  You  know  it  can  lead  to  nothing — even  if 
you  desired  that  it  should." 

"  Even  ?     Miss  Kennedy,  can't  you  see — " 

"  No — I  can  see  nothing — I  will  hear  nothing.  Do  not — oh, 
Mr.  Goslett — we  have  been — we  are — such  excellent  friends. 
You  have  been  so  great  a  help  to  mc :  I  look  to  you  for  so 
much  more.  Do  not  spoil  all:  do  not  seek  for  what  could 
never  be :  pray — pray,  do  not." 

She  spoke  with  so  much  earnestness :  her  eyes  were  filled  with 
such  a  frankness :  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  so  charm- 
ing a  camaraderie,  that  he  could  not  choose  but  obey. 

"  It  is  truly  wonderful,"  he  said,  thinking,  for  the  thousandth 
time,  how  this  pearl  among  women  came  to  Stepney  Green. 

"  What  is  wonderful  ?"  she  blushed  as  she  asked. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  Let  us  both  be  frank.  You  com- 
mand me  not  to  say  the  thing  I  most  desire  to  say.  Very  good^ 
I  will  be  content  to  wait,  but  under  one  promise — " 

"  What  is  that  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  193 

"  If  the  reason  or  reasons  which  command  my  silence  should 
ever  be  removed — mind,  I  do  not  seek  to  know  what  they  are — 
you  will  yourself — " 

"  What  ?"  she  asked,  blushing  sweetly. 

"  You  will  yourself — tell  me  so." 

She  recovered  her  composure  and  gave  him  her  hand._ 

"  If,  at  any  time,  I  can  listen  to  you,  I  will  tell  you  so.  Does 
that  content  you  ?" 

Certainly  not ;  but  there  was  no  more  to  be  got ;  therefore 
Harry  was  fain  to  be  contented,  whether  he  would  or  not.  And 
this  was  only  one  of  a  hundred  little  skirmishes  in  which  he 
endeavored  to  capture  an  advanced  fort  or  prepared  to  lay  the 
siege  in  form.     And  always  he  was  routed  with  heavy"  loss. 

"  And  now,"  she  went  on,  "  we  will  get  back  to  our  pro- 
fessor." 

"  Yes.  I  am  to  work  two  extra  hours  a  day  that  he  may  go 
about  in  the  luxury  of  eighteen  shillings  a  week.  This  it  is  to 
be  one  of  the  horny-handed.    What  is  the  professor  to  do  first  V 

"  Let  us  first,"  she  said,  "  find  him  and  secure  his  services." 

It  has  been  seen  that  the  professor  was  already  come  to  the 
period  of  waist-tightening,  which  naturally  follows  a  too  con- 
tinued succession  of  banyan  days. 

He  listened  with  avidity  to  any  proposition  which  held  forth 
a  prospect  of  food.  The  work,  he  said,  only  partly  understand- 
ing it,  would  be  difficult,  but  therefore  the  more  to  be  desired 
Common  conjurers,  he  said,  would  spoil  such  a  case.  As  for 
himself,  he  would  undertake  to  do  just  whatever  they  wanted 
with  the  register,  whether  it  was  the  substitution  of  a  page  or 
the  tearing  out  of  a  page,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  parish 
clerk.  "  There  must  be,"  he  said,  "  a  patter  suitable  to  the  oc- 
casion. I  will  manage  that  for  you.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  make 
up  as  I  ought  for  the  part,  because  it  would  cost  too  much,  but 
we  must  do  without  that.  And  now,  Miss  Kennedy,  what  is  it 
exactly  that  you  want  me  to  do  ?" 

He  was  disappointed  on  learning  that  there  would  be  no 
"  palming  "  of  leaves,  old  or  new,  among  the  registers :  nothing, 
in  fact,  but  a  simple  journey  and  a  simple  examination  of  the 
books.  And  though,  as  he  confessed,  he  had  as  yet  no  experi- 
ence in  the  art  of  falsifying  parish  registers,  where  science  was 
concerned  its  interests  v/ere  above  those  of  mere  morality. 
9 


194  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DANIEL    FAGG. 

What  would  have  happened  if  certain  things  had  not  hap- 
pened ?  This  is  a  question  which  is  seldom  set  in  examination 
papers,  on  account  of  the  great  scope  it  offers  to  the  imaginative 
faculty,  and  we  all  know  how  dangerous  a  thing  it  is  to  develop 
this  side  of  the  human  mind.  Many  a  severe  historian  has  been 
spoiled  by  developing  his  imagination.  But  for  this,  Scott 
might  have  been  another  Alison,  and  Thackeray  a  Mill.  In  this 
Stepney  business  the  appearance  of  Angela  certainly  worked 
changes  at  once  remarkable  and  impossible  to  be  dissociated 
from  her  name.  Thus,  but  for  her,  the  unfortunate  claimants 
must  have  been  driven  back  to  their  own  country  like  baffled 
invaders  "  rolling  sullenly  over  the  frontier."  Nelly  would  have 
spent  her  whole  life  in  the  sadness  of  short  rations  and  long 
hours,  with  hopeless  prayers  for  days  of  fatness.  Rebekah  and 
the  improvers  and  the  dressmakers  and  the  apprentices  would 
have  endured  the  like  hardness.  Harry  would  have  left  the 
Joyless  City  to  its  joylessness,  and  returned  to  the  regions  whose 
skies  are  all  sunshine — to  the  young  and  fortunate — and  its 
pavements  all  of  gold.  And  there  would  have  been  no  Palace 
of  Delight.  And  what  would  have  become  of  Daniel  Fagg,  one 
hardly  likes  to  think.  The  unlucky  Daniel  had,  indeed,  fallen 
upon  very  evil  days.  There  seemed  to  be  no  longer  a  single 
man  left  whom  he  could  ask  for  a  subscription  to  his  book. 
He  had  used  them  all  up.  He  had  sent  begging  letters  to  every 
fellow  of  every  scientific  society :  he  had  levied  contributions 
upon  every  secretary :  he  had  attacked  in  person  every  official 
at  the  museums  of  Great  Russell  Street  and  South  Kensington : 
he  had  tried  all  the  publishers :  he  had  written  to  every  bishop, 
nobleman,  clergyman,  and  philanthropist  of  whom  he  could  hear, 
pressing  upon  them  the  claims  of  his  great  discovery.  Now  he 
could  do  no  more.     The  subscriptions  he  had  received  for  pub- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  196 

lishing  his  book  were  spent  in  necessary  food  and  lodging :  no- 
body at  the  Museum  would  even  see  him :  he  got  no  more  an- 
swers to  his  letters :  starvation  stared  him  in  the  face. 

For  three  days  he  had  lived  upon  ninepence.  Threepence  a 
day  for  food.  Think  of  that,  ye  who  are  fed  regularly,  and  fed 
well.  Threepence  to  satisfy  all  the  cravings  of  an  excellent  ap- 
petite !  There  was  now  no  more  money  left.  And  in  two  days 
more  the  week's  rent  would  be  due. 

On  the  morning  when  he  came  forth,  hungry  and  miserable, 
without  even  the  penny  for  a  loaf,  it  happened  that  Angela  was 
standing  at  her  upper  window  on  the  other  side  of  the  Green, 
and,  fortunately  for  the  unlucky  scholar,  she  saw  him.  His 
strange  behavior  made  her  watch  him.  First,  he  looked  up  and 
down  the  street  in  uncertainty  ;  then,  as  if  he  had  business  which 
could  not  be  delayed  a  moment,  he  turned  to  the  right  and  marched 
straight  away  towards  the  Mile  End  Road.  This  was  because  he 
thought  he  would  go  to  the  head  of  the  Egyptian  department  at 
the  British  Museum  and  borrow  five  shillings.  Then  he  stopped 
suddenly :  this  was  because  he  remembered  that  he  would  have 
to  send  in  his  name,  and  that  the  chief  would  certainly  refuse  to 
see  him.  Then  he  turned  slowly  and  walked,  dragging  his  limbs 
and  hanging  his  head,  in  the  opposite  direction — because  he  was 
resolved  to  make  for  the  London  Docks,  and  drop  accidentally 
into  the  sluggish  green  water,  the  first  drop  of  which  kills  al- 
most as  certainly  as  a  glass  of  Bourbon  whiskey.  Then  he 
thought  that  there  would  be  some  luxury  in  sitting  down  for  a 
few  moments  to  think  comfortably  over  his  approaching  demise, 
and  of  the  noise  it  would  make  in  the  learned  world,  and  how  re- 
morsef  ul  and  ashamed  the  scholars — especially  he  of  the  Egyptian 
department — would  feel  for  the  short  balance  of  their  sin-laden 
days,  and  he  took  a  seat  on  a  bench  in  the  Green  garden  with 
this  view.  As  he  thought  he  leaned  forward,  staring  into  vacancy, 
and  in  his  face  there  grew  so  dark  an  expression  of  despair  and 
terror  that  Angela  shuddered  and  ran  for  her  hat,  recollecting 
that  she  had  heard  of  his  poverty  and  his  disappointments. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  well,  Mr.  Fagg." 

He  started  and  looked  up.  In  imagination  he  was  already 
lying  dead  at  the  bottom  of  the  green  water,  and  before  his 
troubled  mind  there  were  floating  confused  images  of  his  former 
life,  now  past  and  dead  and  gone.     He  saw  himself  in  his  Ans- 


196  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

tralian  cottage  arriving  at  his  grand  discovery  :  he  v\ras  lecturing 
about  it  on  a  platform :  he  was  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  ship, 
drinking  farewell  nobblers  with  an  enthusiastic  crowd :  and  he 
was  wandering  hungry,  neglected,  despised,  about  the  stony 
streets  of  London. 

**  Well  ?  No :  I  am  not  well,*'  he  replied,  presently,  under- 
standing things  a  little. 

"  Is  it  distress  of  mind  or  of  body,  Mr.  Fagg  ?" 

"  Yesterday  it  was  both ;  to-night  it  will  be  both ;  just  now 
it  is  only  one." 

"  Which  one  ?" 

"  Mind,"  he  replied,  fiercely,  refusing  to  acknowledge  that  h« 
was  starving.  He  threw  his  hat  back,  dashed  his  subscription- 
book  to  the  ground,  and  banged  the  unoffending  bench  with 
his  fist. 

"  As  for  mind,"  he  went  on, "  it's  a  pity  I  was  bom  with  any. 
I  wish  I'd  had  no  more  mind  than  my  neighbors.  It's  mind, 
and  nothing  else,  that  has  brought  me  to  this." 

"  What  is  this,  Mr.  Fagg «" 

"  Nothing  to  you.  Go  your  ways ;  you  are  young ;  you  have 
yet  your  hopes,  which  may  come  to  nothing,  same  as  mine  ;  even 
though  they  are  not,  like  mine,  hopes  of  glory  and  learning. 
There's  Mr.  Goslett  in  love  with  you  ;  what  is  mind  to  you  ? 
Nothing.  And  you  in  love  with  him.  Very  likely  he'll  go  off 
with  another  woman,  and  then  you'll  find  out  what  it  is  to  be 
disappointed.  What  is  mind  to  anybody  ?  Nothing.  Do  they 
care  for  it  in  the  Museum  ?  No.  Does  the  head  of  the  Egyp^ 
tian  department  care  for  it  ?  Not  he  ;  not  a  bit.  It's  a  cruel 
and  a  selfish  country." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Fagg !"  She  disregarded  his  allusion  to  herself, 
though  it  was  sufiiciently  downright. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  will  be  revenged.  I  will  do  something — yes — 
something  that  shall  tell  all  Australia  how  I  have  been  wronged  ; 
the  colony  of  Victoria  shall  ring  with  my  story.  It  shall  sap 
their  loyalty;  they  shall  grow  discontented;  they  will  import 
more  Irishmen ;  there  shall  be  separation.  Yes ;  my  friends 
shall  demand  separation  in  revenge  for  my  treatment." 

"  It  is  Christian  to  forgive,  Mr.  Fagg." 

"  I  will  forgive,  when  I  have  had  my  revenge.  No  one  shall 
say  I  am  vindictive.    Ah  !" — he  heaved  a  profound  sigh.    "  They 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  197 

gave  me  a  dinner  before  I  came  away ;  they  drank  my  health ; 
they  all  told  me  of  the  reception  I  should  get,  and  the  glory  that 
awaited  me.  Look  at  me  now.  Not  one  penny  in  my  pocket. 
Not  one  man  who  believes  in  the  discovery.  AVherefore  I  may 
truly  say  that  it  is  better  to  be  born  without  a  brain." 

"  This  is  your  subscription-book,  I  believe."  She  took  it  and 
turned  over  its  pages. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Fagg,  you  have  come  to  the  fifty-first  copy  of  the 
book.  Fifty-one  copies  ordered  beforehand  does  not  look  like 
disbelief.  May  I  add  my  name  ?  That  will  make  fifty-two. 
Twelve  shillings  and  sixpence,  I  see.  Oh,  I  shall  look  forward 
with  the  greatest  interest  to  the  appearance  of  the  book,  I  as- 
sure you.  Yes,  you  must  not  expect  of  a  dressmaker  much 
knowledge  of  Hebrew,  Mr.  Fagg.  You  great  scholars  must  be 
contented  with  the  simple  admiration  of  ignorant  work-girls." 
He  was  too  far  gone  in  misery  to  be  easily  soothed,  but  he  be- 
gan to  wish  he  had  not  said  that  cruel  thing  about  possible  de- 
sertion by  her  lover. 

"  Admiration !"  he  echoed,  with  a  hollow  groan.  "  And  yes- 
terday nothing  to  eat  further  than  threepence ;  and  the  day  be- 
fore the  same ;  and  the  day  before  that.  In  Australia,  when  I 
was  in  the  shoemaking  line,  there  was  always  plenty  to  eat. 
Starvation,  I  suppose,  goes  to  the  brain.  And  is  the^  cause  of 
suicide,  too.  I  know  a  beautiful  place  in  the  London  Docks, 
where  the  water's  green  with  minerals.  I  shall  go  there."  He 
pushed  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets,  while  his  bushy  eye- 
brows frowned  so  horribly  that  two  children  who  were  playing 
in  the  walk  screamed  with  terror  and  fled  without  stopping. 
"  That  water  poisons  a  man  directly  he  drops  into  it.  It's  surer 
and  quicker  than  drowning,  and  doesn't  hurt  so  much." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Fagg,"  said  Angela,  "  we  allow  something  for  the 
superior  activity  of  great  minds ;  but  we  must  not  talk  of  de- 
spair when  there  should  be  nothing  beyond  a  little  despond- 
ency." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Too  much  reading  has  probably  disordered  your  digestion, 
Mr.  Fagg.  You  want  rest  and  society,  with  sympathy — a  wom- 
an's sympathy.     Scholars,  perhaps,  are  sometimes  jealous." 

"  Reading  has  emptied  my  purse,"  he  said.  "  Sympathy 
won't  fill  it." 


198  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Sympathy  is  a  wonderful  medicine  some- 
times. It  works  miracles.  I  think,  Mr.  Fagg,  you  had  better 
let  me  pay  my  subscription  in  advance.  You  can  give  me  the 
change  when  you  please." 

She  placed  a  sovereign  in  his  hand.  His  fingers  clutched  it 
greedily ;  then  his  conscience  smote  him ;  her  kind  words,  her 
flattery  touched  his  heart. 

"  I  cannot  take  it,"  he  said.  "  Mr.  Goslett  warned  me  not  to 
take  your  money.  Besides  " — he  gasped  and  pointed  to  the  sub- 
scription-list. "  Fifty-one  names !  They've  all  paid  their  money 
for  printing  the  book.  I've  eaten  up  all  the  money,  and  I  shall 
eat  up  yours  as  well.  Take  the  sovereign  back.  I  can  starve. 
When  I  am  dead,  I  would  rather  be  remembered  for  my  discov- 
ery than  for  a  shameful  devourer  of  subscription-money." 

She  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him,  unresisting,  to  the  es- 
tablishment. "  We  must  look  after  you,  Mr.  Fagg,"  she  said. 
"  Now,  I  have  got  a  beautiful  room,  where  no  one  sits  all  day 
long  except  sometimes  a  crippled  girl  and  sometimes  myself.  In 
the  evening  the  girls  have  it.  You  may  bring  your  books  there 
if  you  like,  and  sit  there  to  work,  when  you  please.  And  by  the 
way  " — she  added  this  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  the  very  least 
consequence,  hardly  worth  mentioning — "  if  you  would  like  to 
join  us  any  day  at  dinner — we  take  our  simple  meal  at  one — 
the  girls,  no  doubt,  will  all  think  it  a  great  honor  to  have  so  dis- 
tinguished a  scholar  with  them." 

Mr.  Fagg  blushed  with  pleasure.  Why,  if  the  British  Museum 
people  treated  him  with  contumely,  if  nobody  would  subscribe 
to  his  book,  if  he  was  weary  of  asking  and  being  refused,  here 
was  a  haven  of  refuge  where  he  would  receive  some  of  the  honor 
due  to  a  scholar. 

"  And  now  that  you  are  here,  Mr.  Fagg,"  said  Angela,  when 
he  had  broken  bread  and  given  thanks,  "  you  shall  tell  me  all 
about  your  discovery.  Because,  you  see,  we  are  so  ignorant,  we 
girls  of  the  working  classes,  that  I  do  not  exactly  know  what  is 
your  discovery." 

He  sat  down,  and  asked  for  a  piece  of  paper.  With  this  as- 
sistance he  began  his  exposition. 

"  I  was  drawn  to  my  investigation,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "  by  a 
little  old  book  about  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients.  That  is  now 
live  years  ago,  and  I  was  then  fifty-five  years  of  age.     No  time 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  199 

to  be  lost,  says  I  to  myself,  if  anything  is  to  be  done.  The  more 
I  read  and  the  more  I  thought — I  was  in  the  shoemaking  trade, 
and  I'm  not  ashamed  to  own  it,  for  it's  a  fine  business  for  such 
as  are  born  with  a  head  for  thinking — the  more  I  thought,  I  say, 
the  more  I  was  puzzled.  For  there  seemed  to  me  no  way  possi- 
ble of  reconciling  what  the  scholars  said." 

"  You  have  not  told  me  the  subject  of  your  research  yet." 

"  Antiquity,"  he  replied,  grandly.  "  All  antiquity  was  the 
subject  of  my  research.  First,  1  read  about  the  Egyptians,  and 
the  hieroglyphics.  Then  I  got  hold  of  a  new  book  all  about  the 
Assyrians  and  the  cuneiform  character." 

"  I  see,"  said  Angela.  "  You  were  attracted  by  the  ancient 
inscriptions  ?" 

"  Naturally  ;  without  inscriptions,  where  are  you  ?  The  schol- 
ars said  this,  and  the  scholars  said  that.  They  talked  of  reading 
the  Egyptian  language,  and  the  Assyrian,  and  the  Median,  and 
what  not.     That  wouldn't  do  for  me." 

The  audacity  of  the  little  man  excited  Angela's  curiosity, 
which  had  been  languid. 

"  Pray  go  on,"  she  said. 

"  The  scholars  have  the  same  books  to  go  to  as  me.  Yet  they 
don't  go.  They've  eyes  as  good,  but  they  won't  use  them.  Now 
follow  me,  miss,  and  you'll  be  surprised.  "When  Abraham  went 
down  into  Egypt,  did  he  understand  their  language  or  didn't 
he?" 

"  Why,  I  suppose — at  least,  it  is  not  said  that  he  did  not." 

"  Of  course  he  did.  When  Joseph  went  there,  did  he  under- 
stand them?  Of  course  he  did.  When  Jacob  and  his  sons 
came  into  the  country,  did  they  talk  a  strange  speech?  Not 
they.  "WTien  Solomon  married  an  Egyptian  princess,  did  he 
understand  her  talk  ?  Why,  of  course  he  did.  Now,  do  you 
guess  what's  coming  next  ?" 

"  No,  not  at  all." 

"  None  of  the  scholars  could.  Listen,  then.  If  they  all  un- 
derstood each  other,  they  must  have  all  talked  the  same  lan- 
guage, mustn't  they  ?" 

"  Why,  it  would  seem  so." 

"  It's  a  sound  argument,  which  can't  be  denied.  Nobody  can 
deny  it — I  defy  them.  If  they  understood  each  other,  there 
must  have  been  a  common  language.  Where  did  this  common 
O 


200  ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN. 

language  spread  ?  Over  all  the  countries  thereabout.  What  was 
the  common  language  ?     Hebrew  !" 

"  Oh !"  said  Angela.    "  Then  they  all  talked  Hebrew  ?" 

**  Every  man  Jack.  Nothing  else  known.  What  next  ?  They 
wanted  to  write  it.  Now,  we  find  what  seems  to  be  one  charac- 
ter in  Egypt,  and  another  in  Syria,  and  another  in  Arabia,  and 
another  in  Phoenicia,  and  another  in  Judaea.  Bless  you,  I  know 
all  about  these  alphabets.  What  I  say  is — if  a  common  lan- 
guage, then  a  common  alphabet  to  write  it  with." 

"  I  see,  a  common  alphabet.    Which  you  discovered,  perhaps." 

"  That,  young  lady,  is  my  discovery.  That  is  the  greatest  dis- 
covery of  the  age.  I  found  it  myself,  once  a  small  shoemaker  in 
a  little  Victorian  township ;  I  alone  found  out  that  common  al- 
phabet, and  have  come  over  here  to  make  it  known.  Not  bad, 
says  you,  for  a  shoemaker  who  had  to  teach  himself  his  own 
Hebrew." 

"  And  the  scholars  here — " 

"  They're  jealous,  that's  what  it  is ;  they're  jealous.  Most  of 
them  have  written  books  to  prove  other  things,  and  they  won't 
give  in  and  own  that  they've  been  wrong.  My  word!  The 
scholars — "  He  paused  and  shook  his  hands  before  her  face. 
"  Some  of  them  have  got  the  Hebrew  alphabet,  and  try  to  make 
out  how  one  letter  is  a  house  and  another  a  bull's  head.  And 
so  on.  And  some  have  got  the  cuneiforms,  and  they  make  out 
that  one  bundle  of  arrows  is  an  A  and  another  a  B.  And  so 
on.  And  some  have  got  the  hieroglyphic,  and  it's  the  same 
game  with  all.  While  I — if  you  please — with  my  little  plain, 
simple  discovery  just  show  all  the  different  alphabets — different 
to  outward  seeming — are  really  one  and  the  same." 

*'  This  is  very  interesting,"  said  Angela.  The  little  man  was 
glowing  with  enthusiasm  and  pride ;  he  was  transformed ;  he 
walked  up  and  down  throwing  about  his  arms ;  he  stood  before 
her,  looking  almost  tall ;  his  eyes  flashed  with  fire,  and  his  voice 
was  strong.  "  And  can  you  read  inscriptions  by  your  simple 
alphabet?" 

"  There  is  not,"  he  replied,  "  a  single  inscription  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  that  I  can't  read.  I  just  sit  down  before  it,  with 
my  Hebrew  dictionary  in  my  hand — I  didn't  tell  you  I  learned 
Hebrew  on  purpose,  did  I  ? — and  I  read  that  inscription,  how- 
ever long  it  is.     Ah  ?" 


Q_^^JU.JUjt-^ 


"  TJie  audacity  of  the  little  man  excited  Angela's  curiosity.' 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  201 

"  This  seems  extraordinary.  Can  you  show  me  your  alpha- 
bet?" 

He  sat  down  and  began  to  make  figures. 

"  What  is  the  simplest  figure  ?  A  circle  ?  a  square  ?  a  nought  ? 
No.  A  triangle.  Very  good,  then.  Do  you  think  they  were 
such  fools  as  to  copy  a  great  ugly  bull's  head  when  they'd  got 
a  triangle  ready  to  their  hands  and  easy  to  draw  ?  Not  they ; 
they  just  made  a  triangle — so — "  he  drew  an  equilateral  triangle 
on  its  base — "  and  called  it  the  first  letter  ;  and  two  triangles, 
one  a-top  of  the  other — so — and  called  that  the  second  letter. 
Then  they  stuck  their  triangle  in  another  position,  and  it  was 
the  third  letter ;  and  in  another,  and  it  is  the  fourth — "  An- 
gela felt  as  if  her  head  were  swimming  as  he  manipulated  his 
triangles,  and  rapidly  produced  his  primitive  alphabet,  which 
really  did  present  some  resemblance  to  the  modern  symbols. 
"  There — and  there — and  there — and  what  is  that  ?  and  this  ? 
And  so  you've  got  the  whole.  Now,  young  lady,  with  this  in 
your  hand,  which  is  the  key  to  all  learning — and  the  Hebrew 
dictionary — there's  nothing  you  can't  manage." 

"  And  an  account  of  this  is  to  be  given  in  your  book,  is  it  ?" 

"  That  is  the  secret  of  my  book.  Now  you  know  what  it 
was  I  found  out ;  now  you  see  why  my  friends  paid  my  passage 
home,  and  are  now  looking  for  the  glory  which  thev  prophe- 
sied." 

"  Don't  get  gloomy  again,  Mr.  Fagg.  It  is  a  long  lane,  you 
know,  that  has  no  turning.     Let  us  hope  for  better  luck." 

"  No  one  will  ever  know,"  he  went  on,  "  the  inscriptions  that 
1  have  found — and  read — in  the  Museum.  They  don't  know 
what  they've  got.  I've  told  nobody  yet,  but  they  are  all  in  my 
book,  and  I'll  tell  you  beforehand.  Miss  Kennedy,  because  you've 
been  kind  to  me.  Yes,  a  woman  is  best ;  I  ought  to  have  gone 
to  the  women  first.  I  would  marry  you.  Miss  Kennedy,  I  would 
indeed ;  but — I  am  too  old,  and,  besides,  I  don't  think  I  could 
afford  a  family." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Fagg,  all  the  same.  You  do  me  a  great 
honor.     But  about  these  inscriptions  ?" 

"Mind,  it's  a  secret."     He  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 

"There's  cuneiform  inscriptions  in  the  Museum  with  David  and 

Jonathan  on  them — ah  ! — and  Balaam  and  Balak — Oho  !" — he 

positively  chuckled  over  the  thought   of  these  great  finds — 

9* 


202  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

*'  and  the  whole  life  of  Jezebel — Jezebel !  what  do  you  think  of 
that?  And  what  else  do  you  think  they  have  got,  only  they 
don't  know  it  ?  The  two  tables  of  stone  ! !  Nothing  short 
of  the  Two  Tables,  with  the  Ten  Commandments  written  out  at 
length ! ! !" 

Angela  gazed  with  amazement  at  this  admirable  man:  his 
faith  in  himself,  his  audacity,  the  grandeur  of  his  concep- 
tions, the  wonderful  power  of  his  imagination  overwhelmed 
her.  But,  to  be  sure,  she  had  never  before  met  a  genuine  en- 
thusiast. 

"  I  know  where  they  are  kept ;  nobody  else  knows.  It  is  in 
a  dark  corner ;  they  are  each  about  two  feet  high ;  and  there's 
a  hole  in  the  corner  of  each  for  Moses's  thumb  to  hold  them  by. 
Think  of  that !  I've  read  them  all  through,  only  " — ^he  added, 
with  a  look  of  bewilderment — "  I  think  there  must  be  something 
wrong  with  my  Hebrew  dictionary,  because  none  of  the  com- 
mandments read  quite  right.  One  or  two  come  out  quite  sur- 
prising. Yet  the  stones  must  be  right,  mustn't  they  ?  There 
can  be  no  question  about  that ;  and  the  discovery  must  be  right. 
No  question  about  that.  And  as  for  the  dictionaries — who  put 
them  together  ?  tell  me  that !     Yah !  the  scholars  !" 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE     MISSING     LINK. 


The  professor,  then,  started  on  his  quest  with  a  cheerful 
heart,  caused  by  the  certainty  of  dinner  for  some  days  to  come. 
But  he  was  an  honest  professor,  and  he  did  not  prolong  his  ab- 
sence for  the  sake  of  those  dinners.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
made  the  most  rapid  despatch  consistent  with  thorough  work, 
and  returned  after  an  absence  of  four  days,  bearing  with  him 
the  fruits  of  his  research." 

"  I  think,"  said  Harry,  after  reading  his  report — "  I  think, 
Miss  Kennedy,  that  we  have  found  a  missing  link." 

"  Then  they  really  will  make  their  claim  good  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say  that — quite.  I  said  that  we  have  found  a 
missing  link.  There  might  be,  if  you  will  think  of  it — two. 
One  of  them  would  have  connected  the  condescending  wheel- 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  203 

Wright  with  his  supposed  parent,  the  last  Lord  Davenant.  The 
other  would  connect  him  with — quite  another  father." 

"  The  truth,  which  was  for  some  time  carefully  concealed 
from  the  illustrious  pair,  was,  in  fact,  this  : 

There  is  a  village  of  Davenant  surrounding  or  adjoining  a 
castle  of  Davenant,  just  as  Alnwick,  Arundel,  Durham,  Lancas- 
ter, Chepstow,  Raglan,  and  a  great  many  more  English  towns 
have  a  castle  near  them.  And  whether  Davenant  town  was 
built  to  be  protected  by  the  castle,  or  the  castle  for  the  protec- 
tion of  the  town,  is  a  point  on  which  I  must  refer  you  to  the 
county  historian,  who  knows  all  about  it  and  is  not  likely  to  de- 
ceive you  on  so  important  a  point.  The  castle  is  now  a  pictur- 
esque ruin,  with  a  country-house  built  beside  it.  In  this  coun- 
try-house the  last  Lord  Davenant  died  and  the  last  heir  to  the 
title  was  born.  There  is  an  excellent  old  church,  with  a  tower 
and  ivy,  and  high-pitched  roof,  as  an  ancient  church  should  have, 
and  in  the  family  vault  under  the  chancel  all  the  Davenants,  ex- 
cept the  last  heir,  lie  buried. 

There  is  also  in  the  village  a  small  country  inn  called  the 
Davenant  Arms,  where  the  professor  put  up,  and  where  he 
made  himself  extraordinarily  popular,  because,  finding  himself 
among  an  assemblage  of  folk  slow  to  see  and  slower  still  to 
think,  he  astonished  them  for  four  nights  consecutively.  The 
rustics  still  tell,  and  will  continue  to  tell,  so  long  as  memory 
lasts,  of  the  wonderful  man  who  took  their  money  out  of  their 
waistcoats,  exchanged  handkerchiefs,  conveyed  potatoes  into 
strange  coat-pockets,  read  their  thoughts,  picked  out  the  cards 
they  had  chosen,  made  them  take  a  card  he  had  chosen  whether 
they  wanted  it  or  not,  caused  balls  of  glass  to  vanish,  changed 
half-pence  into  half-crowns,  had  a  loaded  pistol  fired  at  himself 
and  caught  the  ball,  with  other  great  marvels,  all  for  nothing, 
to  oblige  and  astonish  the  villagers,  and  for  the  good  of  the 
house.  These  were  the  recreations  of  the  evening  hours.  The 
mornings  he  spent  in  the  vestry  of  the  old  church  searching  the 
registers. 

There  was  nothing  professional  about  it,  only  the  drudgery  of 
clerk's  work ;  to  do  it  at  all  was  almost  beneath  his  dignity ; 
yet  he  went  through  with  it  conscientiously,  and  restrained  him- 
self from  inviting  the  sexton,  who  stayed  with  him,  to  lend  him 
his  handkerchief  or  to  choose  a  card.     Nor  did  he  even  hide  a 


204  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

card  in  the  sexton's  pocket,  and  then  convey  it  into  the  parish 
register.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  He  was  sternly  practical,  and 
searched  diligently.  Nevertheless,  he  noted  how  excellent  a 
place  for  the  simpler  feats  would  be  the  reading-desk.  The  fact 
is,  that  gentlemen  of  his  profession  never  go  to  church,  and 
therefore  are  ignorant  of  the  uses  of  its  various  parts.  On  Sun- 
day morning  they  lie  in  bed ;  on  Sunday  afternoon  they  have 
dinner,  and  perhaps  the  day's  paper,  and  on  Sunday  evening 
they  gather  at  a  certain  house  of  call  for  conjurers  in  Drury 
Lane,  and  practise  on  each  other.  There  is,  therefore,  no  room 
in  the  conjurer's  life  for  church.  Some  remedy  should  be  found 
for  this  by  the  bishops. 

"What  have  I  got  to  look  for?"  said  the  professor,  as  the 
sexton  produced  the  old  books.  "  Well,  I've  got  to  find  what 
families  there  were  living  here  a  hundred  years  ago,  or  therea- 
bouts, named  Davenant,  and  what  Christian  names  they  had, 
and  whether  there  were  two  children  born  and  baptized  here  in 
one  year,  both  bearing  the  name  of  Davenant." 

The  sexton  shook  his  head.  He  was  only  a  middle-aged  man, 
and  therefore  not  yet  arrived  at  sextonial  ripeness ;  for  a  sexton 
only  begins  to  be  mellow  when  he  is  ninety  or  thereabouts.  He 
knew  nothing  of  the  Davenants  except  that  there  were  once 
Lords  Davenant,  now  lying  in  the  family  vault  below  the  chan- 
cel, and  none  of  them  left  in  the  parish  at  all,  nor  any  in  his 
memory,  nor  in  that  of  his  father's  before  him,  so  far  as  he 
could  tell. 

After  a  careful  examination  of  the  books,  the  professor  was 
enabled  to  state  with  confidence  that  at  the  time  in  question  the 
Davenant  name  was  borne  by  none  but  the  family  at  the  castle ; 
that  there  were  no  cousins  of  the  name  in  the  place ;  and  that 
the  heir  born  in  that  year  was  christened  on  such  a  day,  and  re- 
ceived the  name  of  Timothy  Clitheroe. 

If  this  had  been  the  only  evidence,  the  case  would  have  been 
made  in  favor  of  the  Canaan  City  claimant ;  but  unfortunately 
there  was  another  discovery  made  by  the  professor,  at  sight  of 
which  he  whistled  and  then  shook  his  head,  and  then  consid- 
ered whether  it  would  not  be  best  to  cut  out  the  page,  while  the 
sexton  thought  he  was  forcing  a  card,  or  palming  a  ball,  or  boil- 
ing an  egg,  or  some  other  ingenious  feat  of  legerdemain.  For 
he  instantly  perceived  that  the  fact  recorded  before  his  eyes 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  205 

had  an  all-important  bearing  upon  the  oase  of  his  illustrious 
friends. 

The  little  story  which  he  saw  was,  in  short,  this : 

In  the  same  year  of  the  birth  of  the  infant  Timothy  Clitheroe, 
there  was  born  of  a  poor  vagrom  woman,  who  wandered  no  one 
knew  where  from  into  the  parish,  and  died  in  giving  him  to  the 
world,  a  man-child.  There  was  no  one  to  rejoice  over  him,  or 
to  welcome  him,  or  to  claim  him ;  therefore  he  became  parish 
property,  and  had  to  be  christened,  fed,  flogged,  admonished, 
and  educated,  so  far  as  education  in  those  days  was  considered 
necessary,  at  the  charge  of  the  parish.  The  first  step  was  to 
give  him  a  name.  For  it  was  formerly,  and  may  be  still,  a  cus- 
tom in  country  parishes  to  name  a  waif  of  this  kind  after  the 
village  itself,  which  accounts  for  many  odd  surnames,  such  as 
Stepney,  Marylebone,  or  Hoxton.  It  was  not  a  good  custom, 
because  it  might  lead  to  complications,  as  perhaps  it  did  in  this 
case,  when  there  was  already  another  family  legitimately  entitled 
to  bear  the  name.  The  authorities,  following  this  custom,  con- 
ferred upon  the  baby  the  lordly  pame  of  Davenant.  Then,  as  it 
was  necessary  that  he  should  have  a  Christian  name,  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  waste  good  Richard  or  Robin  upon  a  beggar  brat, 
they  gave  him  the  day  of  the  week  on  which  he  w^as  born.  This 
was  intended  to  keep  him  humble,  and  to  remind  him  that  he 
had  no  right  to  any  of  the  distinguished  Christian  names  be- 
stowed upon  respectably  born  children. 

He  was  called  Saturday  Davenant. 

The  name,  the  date,  and  the  circumstances  were  briefly  re- 
corded in  the  parish  register. 

In  most  cases  this  book  contains  three  entries  for  each  name, 
those  of  the  three  important  events  in  his  life :  the  beginning, 
the'  marrying,  which  is  the  making  or  the  marring,  and  the  end- 
ing. One  does  not,  of  course,  count  the  minor  occasions  on 
which  he  may  be  mentioned,  as  on  the  birth  or  death  of  a  child. 
The  professor  turned  over  the  pages  of  the  register  in  vain  for 
any  further  entry  of  this  Saturday  Davenant. 

He  appeared  no  more.  His  one  public  appearance,  so  far  as 
history  records  it,  was  on  that  joyful  occasion  when,  held  in  hire- 
ling arms,  he  was  received  into  the  Christian  Church.  The  one 
thing  to  which  he  was  born  was  his  brotherhood  in  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  no  doubt  the  grandest  of  all  possessions,  yet  in  itself 


206  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

not  professing  to  provide  the  material  comforts  of  life.  The 
baby  was  presented  at  the  font,  received  a  contemptuous  name, 
squealed  a  little,  no  doubt,  when  he  felt  the  cold  water,  and  then 
— then  nothing  more.  What  he  did,  whither  he  went,  where  he 
died,  might  be  left  to  conjecture.  A  parish  brat,  a  cottage  home, 
bread  and  bacon  to  eat,  with  more  bread  than  bacon,  plenty  of 
stick,  the  Church  Catechism,  and  particular  attention  called  to 
the  clauses  about  picking  and  stealing,  practical  work  as  a  scare- 
crow at  seven,  the  plough  later  on  ;  for  pleasures,  quarter-staff, 
wrestling,  fighting,  bull  -  baiting,  and  perhaps  poaching,  with 
strong  beer  and  small  beer  for  drink ;  presently  a  wife,  then  chil- 
dren, then  old  age,  then  death.  One  was  free  to  conjecture,  be- 
cause there  was  no  more  mention  of  this  baby  ;  he  did  not  marry 
in  the  parish  nor  did  he  die  in  it.  He  therefore  went  away.  In 
those  days,  if  a  man  went  away,  it  was  for  one  of  two  reasons : 
either  he  fell  into  trouble  and  went  away,  to  escape  the  wrath 
of  the  squire ;  or  he  enlisted,  marched  off  with  beer  in  his  head 
and  ribbons  in  his  hat,  swore  terribly  with  the  army  in  Flanders, 
and  presently  earned  the  immortal  glory  which  England  rejoices 
to  confer  upon  the  private  soldier  who  falls  upon  the  ensan- 
guined field.  The  enjoyment  of  this  glory  is  such  a  solid,  sub- 
stantial, and  satisfying  thing,  that  fighting  and  war  and  the  field 
of  honor  are,  and  always  will  be,  greatly  beloved  and  desired  by 
private  soldiers. 

There  was  no  other  entry  of  this  boy's  name.  Wlien  the 
professor  had  quite  satisfied  himself  upon  this  point  he  turned 
back  to  the  first  entry,  and  then  became  aware  of  a  note  in 
faded  ink,  now  barely  legible,  written  in  the  margin.  It  was  as 
follows,  and  he  copied  it  exactly  : 

"  Y*  above  s^  Saturday  D^  was  a  Roag  in  Grane :  he  was 
bro't  up  in  the  Fear  of  God,  yet  feared  Him  not ;  taught  his 
Duty,  yet  did  it  not;  admonished  without  stint  of  Rodd  in 
Virtue,  yet  still  inclined  to  Vice :  he  was  app^  to  the  Wheel- 
wright: was  skillful,  yet  indolent:  notorious  as  a  Pocher  who 
could  not  be  caught :  a  Deceiver  of  Maidens :  a  Tosspot  and  a 
Striker.  Compelled  to  leave  the  Parish  to  avoid  Prison  and  the 
Lash,  he  went  to  London,  Latronum  officina.  Was  reported  to 
have  been  sent  to  His  Majesty's  Plantations  in  Virginia,  whereof 
nothing  certain  is  known." 

This  was  the  note  which  the  professor  read  and  copied  out, 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  207 

with  misgiviflgs  that  it  would  not  prove  acceptable.  Of  course 
he  knew  the  story,  and  quite  understood  what  this  might  mean. 

The  next  day,  nothing  more  remaining  to  be  found  in  the 
register,  the  professor  examined  the  brasses  and  tablets  in  the 
church,  and  paid  a  visit  to  the  castle.  And  when  he  had  faith- 
fully executed  his  commission  he  went  away,  amid  the  regrets 
of  the  villagers,  who  had  never  before  been  entertained  by  so 
delightful  and  surprising  a  stranger,  and  brought  back  his  spoils. 

"  What  are  we  to  think  ?"  said  Harry,  after  reading  this  re- 
port. "  The  '  Roag  in  Grane,'  this  wheelwright  by  trade,  who 
can  he  be  but  the  grandfather  of  our  poor  old  friend  ?" 

"  I  fear  it  must  be  so,"  said  Angela.  "  Saturday  Davenant. 
Remember  the  little  book." 

"  Yes,"  said  Harry,  "  the  little  book  came  into  my  mind  at 
once." 

"  Not  a  doubt,"  added  the  professor.  "  Why,  it  stands  to 
reason.  The  fellow  found  himself  a  long  way  from  England, 
among  strangers,  with  no  money  and  only  his  trade.  W'hat  was 
to  prevent  him  from  pretending  to  be  one  of  the  family  whose 
name  he  bore  ?" 

"And  at  the  same  time,"  sn'ul  Harry,  "with  reserve.  He  never 
seems  to  have  asserted  that  he  was  the  son  of  Lord  Davenant ; 
he  only  threw  out  ambiguous  words,  he  fired  the  imagination  of 
his  son,  he  christened  him  by  the  name  of  the  lost  heir,  he  pre- 
tended that  it  was  his  own  Christian  name  ;  and  it  was  not  until 
they  found  out  that  this  was  the  hereditary  name  that  the  claim 
was  thought  of.  This  poacher  and  striker  seems  to  have  pos- 
sessed considerable  native  talent." 

"  But  what,"  asked  Angela,  "  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"Let  us  do  nothing.  Miss  Kennedy.  We  have  our  secret, 
and  we  may  keep  it  for  the  present.  Meantime  the  case  is 
hopeless  on  account  of  the  absolute  impossibility  of  connecting 
the  wheelwright  with  the  man  supposed  to  have  been  drowned. 
Let  them  go  on  '  enjoying '  the  title,  ignorant  of  the  existence 
of  this  unlucky  Saturday  Davenant." 

So,  for  the  present,  the  thing  was  hidden  away  and  nothing 
was  said  about  it.  And  though  about  this  time  the  professor 
gave  one  or  two  entertainments  in  the  drawing-room,  we  cannot 
suppose  that  his  silence  was  bought,  and  it  would  be  unjust  to 
the  noble  profession  of  which  he  was  a  member  to  think  that  he 


208  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

would  let  out  the  secret  had  not  Miss  Kennedy  paid  him  for 
their  performance.  Indeed,  the  professor  was  an  extremely 
honorable  man,  and  would  have  scorned  to  betray  confidence, 
and  it  was  good  of  Miss  Kennedy  to  find  out  that  an  evening  of 
magic  and  miracle  would  do  the  girls  good. 

But  a  profound  pity  seized  the  heart  of  Angela.  These  poor 
people  who  believed  themselves  to  be  entitled  to  an  English 
peerage,  who  were  so  mistaken,  who  would  be  so  disappointed, 
who  were  so  ignorant,  who  knew  so  little  what  it  was  they 
claimed — could  not  something  be  done  to  lessen  their  disap- 
pointment— to  break  their  fall  ? 

She  pondered  long  over  this  difficulty.  That  they  would  in 
the  end  have  to  return  to  their  own  country  was  a  thing  about 
which  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever;  that  they  should  re- 
turn with  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  reality  of  the  thing 
they  had  claimed,  what  it  meant,  what  it  involved,  its  splendors 
and  its  obligations,  seemed  to  her  a  very  great  pity.  A  little 
experience,  she  thought,  even  a  glimpse  of  the  life  led  by  the 
best-bred  and  most  highly  cultivated  and  richest  people  of  Eng- 
land, would  be  of  so  much  advantage  to  them,  that  it  would 
show  them  their  own  unfitness  for  the  rank  which  they  assumed 
and  claimed.  And  presently  she  arrived  at  a  project  which  she 
put  into  execution  without  delay.  What  this  was  you  will  pres- 
ently see. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LORD  JOCELYn's  TROUBLES. 


As  the  season  advanced,  and  the  autumn  deepened  into  win- 
ter, Angela  found  that  there  were  certain  social  duties  which  it 
was  impossible  altogether  to  escape.  The  fiction  of  the  country- 
house  was  good  enough  for  the  general  world,  but  for  her  more 
intimate  friends  and  cousins  this  would  not  do  for  long.  There- 
fore, while  she  kept  the  facts  of  her  present  occupation  and 
place  of  residence  a  secret  from  all  except  Constance  Woodcote, 
now  the  unsympathizing,  she  could  not  wholly  shut  herself  off 
from  the  old  circle.  Among  others  there  was  one  lady  whose 
invitations  she  was  in  a  sense  bound  to  accept.  What  her  obli- 
gations were  and  who  this  lady  was  belong  in  no  way  to  this 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  209 

history — that  is  to  say,  the  explanation  belongs  to  Angela's 
simplo  chronicle  of  the  old  days  when  she  was  only  Miss  Mes- 
senger, the  heiress  presumptive  of  the  Great  Brewery,  There- 
fore it  need  not  concern  us.  SuflBce  it  to  say  that  she  was  a 
lady  in  society,  and  that  she  gave  great  dinners  and  held  other 
gatherings,  and  was  at  all  times  properly  awake  to  the  attractions 
which  the  young  and  beautiful  and  wealthy  Angela  Messenger 
lent  to  her  receptions. 

On  this  occasion  Constance  Woodcote,  among  others,  was  in- 
vited to  meet  her  old  friend  ;  she  came,  but  she  was  ungracious, 
and  Angela  felt,  more  than  she  had  expected,  how  great  already 
was  the  gulf  between  the  old  days  of  Newnham  and  her  life  of 
active,  practical  work.  Six  months  before,  such  coldness  would 
have  hurt  and  pained  her ;  now  she  hardly  felt  it.  Yet  Con- 
stance meant  to  demonstrate  by  a  becoming  frost  of  manner 
how  grievous  was  her  disappointment  about  those  scholarships. 
Then  there  were  half  a  dozen  men — unmarried  men,  men  in  so- 
ciety, men  of  clubs,  men  who  felt  strongly  that  the  possession 
of  Miss  Messenger's  millions  might  reconcile  them  to  matrimony, 
and  were  much  interested  by  the  possibility  of  an  introduction 
to  her,  and  came  away  disappointed  because  they  got  nothing 
out  of  her,  not  even  an  encouragement  to  talk ;  and  everybody 
said  that  she  was  singularly  cold,  distraite,  and  even  embarrassed 
that  evening ;  and  those  who  had  heard  that  Miss  Messenger  was 
a  young  lady  of  great  conversational  powers  went  away  cynically 
supposing  that  any  young  lady  with  less  than  half  her  money 
could  achieve  the  same  reputation  at  the  same  cost  of  energy. 
The  reason  of  this  coldness,  this  preoccupation,  was  as  follows : 

The  dinner-party  was  large,  and  the  conversation  by  no  means 
general.  So  far  as  Angela  was  concerned,  it  was  held  entirely 
with  the  man  who  took  her  down,  and  his  name  was  Lord  Joce- 
lyn  le  Breton — a  rugged-faced  man,  with  a  pleasing  manner  and 
agreeable  voice  ;  no  longer  young.  He  talked  to  her  a  good 
deal  in  a  light,  irresponsible  vein,  as  if  it  mattered  very  little 
what  he  said,  so  that  it  amused  the  young  lady.  He  discoursed 
about  many  things,  principally  about  dinners,  asking  Angela 
what  were  her  own  views  as  to  dinners,  and  expostulating  with 
her  feminine  contempt  for  the  subject.  "  Each  dinner,"  he  said, 
"  should  be  like  a  separate  and  distinct  work  of  art,  and  should 
be  contrived  for  different  kinds  of  wine.     There  should  be  a 


210  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

champagne-dinner,  for  instance,  light,  and  composed  of  many 
dishes,  but  some  of  these  substantial ;  there  should  be  a  claret 
dinner,  grave  and  conscientious;  a  Burgundy  dinner  of  few 
courses,  and  those  solid  ;  a  German  wine  dinner,  in  which  only 
the  simplest  plats  should  appear.  But  unto  harmony  and  con- 
sistency in  dining  we  have  not  yet  arrived.  Perhaps,  Miss  Mes- 
senger, you  may  be  induced  to  bring  your  intellect  to  bear  upon 
the  subject.     I  hear  you  took  high  honors  at  Newnham  lately." 

She  laughed. 

"  You  do  too  much  honor  to  my  intellect.  Lord  Jocelyn.  At 
Newnham  they  teach  us  political  economy,  but  they  have  not 
trusted  us  with  the  art  of  dining.  Do  you  know,  we  positively 
did  not  care  much  what  we  had  for  dinner  ?" 

"  My  ward,  Harry,  used  to  say — but  I  forget  if  you  ever  met 
him." 

"  I  think  not.     What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  Well,  he  used  to  bear  my  name,  and  everybody  knew  him 
as  Harry  le  Breton,  but  he  had  no  right  to  it,  because  he  was 
no  relation  of  mine,  and  so  he  gave  it  up  and  took  his  own." 

"  Oh  !"  Angela  felt  profoundly  uninterested  in  Mr.  Henry  le 
Breton. 

*'  Yes.  And  now  you  never  will  meet  him.  For  he  is  gone  " 
— Lord  Jocelyn  uttered  these  words  in  so  sepulchral  a  tone  that 
Angela  gave  them  greater  significance  than  they  deserved. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said. 

"  No,  Miss  Messenger,  he  is  not  dead.  He  is  only  dead  to 
society.  He  has  gone  out  of  the  world ;  he  has  returned  to— 
in  fact,  his  native  rank  of  life." 

Angela  reddened.     What  could  he  mean  ? 

"  You  interest  me.  Lord  Jocelyn.  Do  you  say  that  your  ward 
has  voluntarily  given  up  society,  and — and — everything  ?"  She 
thought  of  herself  at  the  moment,  and  also,  but  vaguely,  of  Harry 
Goslett.  For,  although  she  knew  that  this  young  man  had  re- 
fused some  kind  of  ofEer  which  included  idleness,  she  had  never 
connected  him  in  her  mind  quite  with  her  own  rank  and  station. 
How  could  she?  He  was  only  a  cabinet-maker,  whose  resem- 
blance to  a  gentleman  she  had  learned  to  accept  without  any 
further  wonder. 

"  He  gave  up  everything :  he  laughed  over  it :  he  took  a 
header  into  the  mob  just  as  if  he  were  going  to  enjoy  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  211 

plunge.  But  did  you  not  hear  of  it  ?  Everybody  talked  about 
it — the  story  got  into  the  society  journals — and  people  blamed 
me  for  telling  him  the  truth." 

"  I  have  not  been  in  London  much  this  year,  therefore  I  heard 
nothing,"  said  Angela.     Just  then  the  dinner  came  to  an  end. 

"  Will  3^ou  tell  me  more  about  your  ward,  Lord  Jocelyn  ?"  she 
asked,  as  she  left  him.  llis  words  had  raised  in  her  mind  a 
vague  and  uncertain  anxiety. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  came  to  her  side.  The  room  was  by 
this  time  full,  and  Angela  was  surrounded.  But  she  made  room 
for  Lord  Jocelyn,  and  presently  the  others  dropped  away  and 
they  could  talk.  A  young  lady  began,  too,  a  long  and  very 
brilliant  piece  of  music,  under  cover  of  which  everybody  would 
talk. 

"Do  you  really  want  to  hear  my  trouble  about  Harry?"  he 
asked.  "  You  look  a  very  sympathetic  young  lady,  and  perhaps 
you  will  feel  for  me.  You  sec,  I  brought  him  up  in  ignorance 
of  his  father,  whom  he  always  imagined  to  be  a  gentleman ; 
whereas  he  was  only  a  sergeant  in  a  line  regiment.  What  is  it, 
Miss  Messenger?" 

For  she  became  suddenly  white  in  the  cheek.  Could  there 
be  two  Harrys,  sons  of  sergeants,  who  had  taken  this  downward 
plunge  ?     More  wonderful  than  a  pair  of  Timothy  Clitheroes. 

"  It  is  nothing,  Lord  Jocelyn.  Pray  go  on.  Your  adopted 
son,  then — " 

"  I  had  always  resolved  to  tell  him  all  about  his  people  when 
he  was  twenty -three.  Who  would  have  thought,  however,  that 
he  would  take  it  as  he  did  ?" 

"  You  forget  that  you  have  not  told  me  what  he  did  do.  If 
I  am  to  sympathize,  you  must  tell  me  all." 

"  As  far  as  the  world  knows,  he  went  away  on  leave,  so  to 
speak.  Perhaps  it  is  only  on  leave,  after  all ;  but  it  is  a  long 
leave,  and  it  looks  more  like  desertion." 

"  You  are  mysterious.  Lord  Jocelyn." 

"Are  you  curious.  Miss  Messenger?" 

"  Say  I  am  sympathetic.  Tell  me  as  much  as  you  can  about 
your  ward." 

Lord  Jocelyn  looked  in  his  listener's  face.  Yes ;  there  was 
sympathy  in  it  and  interest,  both,  as  phrenologists  say,  largely 
developed. 


212  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

"  Then  I  will  explain  to  you,  Miss  Messenger,  how  the  boy 
did  this  most  remarkable  and  unexpected  thing,"  He  paused  a 
moment  considering.  "  Imagine  a  boy  whom  I  had  taken  away 
from  his  own  people  at  three,  or  thereabouts,  so  that  he  should 
never  know  anything  of  them  at  all,  or  dream  about  them,  or 
yearn,  you  know,  or  anything  of  that  kind — an  orphan,  too,  with 
nothing  but  an  Uncle  Bunker — it  is  inconceivable  !" 

"  But  we  do  not  get  on,"  said  Angela,  in  great  impatience ; 
yet  relieved  to  find,  from  the  reference  to  her  worthy  friend 
Bunker,  that  there  was  only  one  Harry.  "  What  is  inconceiva- 
ble?" 

"  I  am  coming  to  that.  I  gave  the  boy  the  best  education  I 
could  get  for  him ;  he  was  so  eager  and  apt  that  he  taught  him- 
self more  than  he  could  be  taught ;  if  he  saw  anybody  doing  a 
thing  well,  he  was  never  satisfied  till  he  could  do  it  as  well  him- 
self— not  better,  mark  you !  a  cad  might  have  wanted  to  do  it 
better :  a  gentleman  is  content  to  do  it  as  well  as  any — any  other 
gentleman.  There  is  hardly  anything  he  could  not  do ;  there 
was  nobody  who  did  not  love  him  ;  he  was  a  favorite  in  society ; 
he  had  hosts  of  friends ;  nobody  cared  who  was  his  father : 
what  did  that  matter  ?  As  I  put  it  to  him,  I  said,  '  Look  at  So- 
and-so  and  So-and-so  ;  who  are  their  fathers  ?  Who  cares  ?  Who 
asks  ?'  Yet  when  he  learned  the  truth  he  broke  away,  gave  up 
all,  and  went  back  to  his  own  relations — to  Whitechapel  ?" 

Angela  blushed  again,  and  her  lip  trembled  a  little.  Then 
she  said,  softly. 

"  To  Whitechapel !  That  is  very  interesting  to  me.  Besides, 
Lord  Jocelyu,  I  belong  to  Whitechapel  myself." 

"  Do  you  ?"  She  might  as  well  have  said  that  she  belonged 
to  Seven  Dials.  In  fact,  much  better,  because  in  his  young  days, 
his  Corinthian  days.  Lord  Jocelyn  had  often  repaired  to  Seven 
Dials  to  see  noble  sportsmen  chez  Ben  Caunt,  and  rat-killing 
and  cock-fighting,  and  many  other  beautiful  forms  of  sport- 
"  Do  you  really  ?  Do  you  belong  to  that  remarkable  part  of 
London  ?" 

"  Certainly.     My  grandfather — did  you  know  him  ?" 

Lord  Jocelyn  shook  his  head. 

"  He  had  the  Brewery,  you  know.  Messenger,  Marsden,  & 
Company,  in  Whitechapel.  He  was  born  there,  and  always 
called  himself  a' Whitechapel  man.     He  seemed  to  be  proud  of 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  213 

it,  SO  that  in  common  filial  respect  i,  too,  should  be  proud  of  it. 
I  am,  in  fact,  a  Whitechapel  granddaughter." 

"  But  that  does  not  seem  to  help  my  unlucky  Harry." 

"  It  gives  one  a  little  more  sympathy,  perhaps,"  she  said. 
"  And  that  is,  you  know,  so  very  useful  a  possession." 

"  Yes  " — but  he  did  not  seem  to  recognize  its  usefulness  as 
regards  his  ward.  "  Well,  he  went  to  Whitechapel  with  a  light 
heart.  He  would  look  round  him,  make  the  acquaintance  of  his 
own  people,  then  he  would  come  back  again  and  we  would  go  on 
just  as  usual.  At  least,  he  did  not  exactly  say  this,  but  I  under- 
stood him  so.  Because  it  seemed  impossible  that  a  man  who 
had  once  lived  in  society,  among  ourselves,  and  formed  one  of 
us,  could  ever  dream  of  living  down  there." 

Angela  laughed.  From  her  superior  knowledge  of  "down 
there  "  she  laughed. 

"  He  went  away,  and  I  was  left  without  him,  for  the  first  time 
for  twenty  years.  It  was  pretty  duU.  He  said  he  would  give 
the  thing  a  trial ;  he  wrote  to  me  that  he  was  trying  it,  that  it 
was  not  so  bad  as  it  seemed,  and  yet  he  talked  as  if  the  experi- 
ment would  be  a  short  one.  I  left  him  there.  I  went  away  for 
a  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean ;  when  I  came  home  he  returned 
to  me." 

"  He  did  return,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  came  back  one  evening  a  good  deal  changed.  I 
should  not  have  thought  it  possible  for  a  boy  to  change  so 
much  in  so  short  a  time.  He  wasn't  ill-fed ;  he  hadn't  suffered 
any  privation,  apparently ;  but  he  was  changed :  he  was  more 
thoughtful ;  his  smile  and  his  laugh  were  not  so  ready.  Poor 
boy!" 

Lord  Jocelyn  sighed  heavily.  Angela's  sympathy  grew  deep- 
er, for  he  evidently  loved  the  *'  boy." 

"  What  had  he  done,  then  ?" 

"  He  came  to  say  farewell  to  me ;  he  thanked  me  for — you 
know  what  a  good  honest  lad  would  say ;  and  he  told  me  that 
he  had  had  an  offer  made  to  him  of  an  unexpected  nature  which 
he  had  determined  to  accept.  You  see  he  is  a  clever  fellow 
with  his  fingers ;  he  can  play  and  paint  and  carve,  and  do  all 
sorts  of  things.  And  among  his  various  arts  and  accomplish- 
ments he  knows  how  to  turn  a  lathe,  and  so  he  has  become  a 
joiner  or  cabinet-maker,  and  he  told  me  that  be  has  got  an  ap- 


214  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

pointment  in  some  great  factory  or  works  or  something,  as  ca(*- 
inet-maker  in  ordinary." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  Harry  Goslett." 

"  Goslett !  Goslett !"  Here  she  blushed  again,  and  once  more 
made  play  with  the  fan.  "  Has  he  got  a  relation  a  certain  Mr. 
Bunker?" 

"  Why — yes — I  told  you,  an  Uncle  Bunker." 

"  Then  I  remember  the  name.  And,  Lord  Jocelyn,  I  hope  you 
will  be  grateful  to  me,  because  I  have  been  the  humble  means  of 
procuring  him  this  distinguished  post.  Mr.  Bunker,  in  fact,  was, 
or  conceived  that  he  had  been,  useful  to  my  grandfather,  and 
was  said  to  be  disappointed  at  getting  nothing  by  the  will. 
Therefore  I  endeavored  to  make  some  return  by  taking  his 
nephew  into  the  House.     That  is  all." 

*'  And  a  great  deal  more  than  enough,  because.  Miss  Messen- 
ger, you  have,  all  out  of  your  kindness,  done  a  great  mischief, 
for  if  you  had  not  employed  him  I  am  quite  certain  no  one  else 
would.  Then  he  would  have  had  to  come  back  to  me.  Send 
him  away.  Do  send  him  away,  Miss  Messenger.  There  are  lots 
of  cabinet-makers  to  be  had.  Then  he  will  come  back  to  society, 
and  I  will  present  him  to  you  and  he  shall  thank  you." 

She  smiled,  and  shook  her  head. 

"People  are  never  sent  away  from  the  Brewery  so  long  as 
they  behave  properly.  But  it  is  strange,  indeed,  that  your  ward 
should  voluntarily  surrender  all  the  advantages  of  life  and  social 
position  for  the  hard  work  and  poor  pay  of  an  artisan.  Was  it 
— was  it  affection  for  his  cousins  ?"  She  blushed  deeply  as  she 
put  this  simple  question. 

"  Strange,  indeed.  When  he  came  to  me  the  other  night,  he 
told  me  a  long  story  about  men  being  all  alike  in  every  rank  of 
life — I  have  noticed  much  the  same  thing  in  the  army  ;  of  course 
he  did  not  have  the  impudence  to  say  that  women  are  all  alike ; 
and  he  talked  a  quantity  of  prodigious  nonsense  about  living 
among  his  own  people.  Presently,  however,  I  got  out  of  him 
the  real  truth." 

"  What  was  that  ?" 

"  He  confessed  that  he  was  in  love." 

"  With  a  young  lady  of  Whitechapel  ?  This  does  great  credit 
to  the  excellent  education  you  gave  him,  Lord  Jocelyn."     She 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  216 

blushed  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time,  and  he  wondered  why,  and 
she  held  her  fan  before  her  face.  "  But,  perhaps,"  she  added, 
''  you  are  wrong,  and  women  of  all  ranks,  like  men,  are  the 
same." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  told  you  this.  Miss  Messenger. 
Now  you  will  despise  him.  Yet  he  had  the  impudence  to  say 
that  she  was  a  lady — positively  a  lady — this  Whitechapel  dress- 
maker." 

"  A  dressmaker  ? — oh  !"  She  threw  into  her  voice  a  little  of 
that  icy  coldness  with  which  ladies  are  expected  to  receive  this 
kind  of  announcement. 

"  Ah  !  now  you  care  no  more  about  him.  I  might  have  known 
that  your  sympathy  would  cease  directly  you  heard  all.  He 
went  into  raptures  over  this  young  milliner.  She  is  as  beau- 
tiful as  the  day  ;  she  is  graceful,  accomplished,  well-bred,  well- 
mannered,  a  queen — " 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Angela,  still  frozen.  "  But  really,  Lord 
Jocelyn,  as  it  is  Mr.  Goslett,  the  cabinet-maker,  and  not  you,  who 
is  in  love  with  this  paragon,  we  may  be  spared  her  praises." 

"  And,  which  is  more  remarkable  still,  she  won't  have  anyr 
thing  to  say  to  him," 

"  That  is,  indeed,  remarkable.  But  perhaps,  as  she  is  the 
Queen  of  Dressmakers,  she  is  looking  for  the  King  of  Cabinet- 
makers." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  I  think  the  music  is  com- 
ing to  an  end.     However,  Miss  Messenger,  one  favor." 

"  A  dozen,  Lord  Jocelyn,  if  I  can  grant  them." 

"  He  refuses  to  take  any  help  from  me ;  he  lives  on  work 
paid  for  at  the  rate  of  tenpence  an  hour.  If  you  will  not  send 
him  away — then — oh,  then — " 

"  Quick,  Lord  Jocelyn,  what  is  it  ?" 

"Tax  the  resources  of  the  Brewery.  Put  on  the  odd  two- 
pence. It  is  the  gift  of  the  Samaritan — make  it  a  shilling  an 
hour." 

"  I  will.  Lord  Jocelyn — hush  !  the  music  is  just  over — and  I 
liope  that  the  dressmaker  will  relent,  and  that  there  will  be  a 
wedding  in  Stepney  Church,  and  that  they  will  be  happy  ever 
after.  Oh,  brave  and  loyal  lover!  He  gives  up  all,  all" — she 
looked  round  the  room  filled  with  guests,  and  her  great  eyes  be- 
came limpid,  and  her  voice  fell  to  a  murmur — "  for  love,  for  lovOi 
P 


216  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Do  you  think,  Lord  Jocelyn,  that  the  dressmaker  will  continue 
to  be  obdurate  ?  But  perhaps  she  does  not  know,  or  cannot  sus- 
pect, what  he  has  thrown  away — for  her  sake — happy  dress- 
maker !" 

"  I  think,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  afterwards,  "  that  if  Harry  had 
seen  Miss  Messenger  before  he  saw  his  dressmaker  we  shouldn't 
have  heard  so  much  about  the  beautiful  life  of  a  workingman. 
Why  the  devil  couldn't  I  wait  ?  This  girl  is  a  Helen  of  Troy, 
and  Harry  should  have  written  his  name  Paris,  and  carried  her 
off,  by  gad !  before  Menelaus  or  any  other  fellow  got  hold  of 
her.     What  a  woman  !     \VTiat  a  match  it  would  have  been  !" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AN    INVITATION. 

Very  shortly  after  the  fatal  discovery  made  by  the  professor, 
Lord  Davenant  received  the  first  outside  recognition  —  so  to 
speak — of  his  rank.  It  is  true  that  no  one  within  a  mile  of 
Stepney  Green — that  is,  anywhere  between  Aldgate  Pump  and 
Bow  Church — would  have  had  the  hardihood  to  express  a  doubt 
on  the  validity  of  a  claim  which  conferred  a  lustre  upon  the 
neighborhood;  yet  even  Lord  Davenant,  not  remarkable  for 
quickness  of  perception,  was  sharp  enough  to  know  that  recog- 
nition at  Stepney  is  not  altogether  the  same  thing  as  recognition 
at  Westminster.  He  was  now  once  more  tolerably  comfortable 
in  his  mind.  The  agonies  of  composition  were  over,  thanks  to 
his  young  friend's  assistance  ;  the  labor  of  transcription  was 
finished ;  he  felt,  in  looking  at  the  bundle  of  papers,  all  the  dig- 
nity of  successful  authorship ;  the  case,  in  fact,  was  now  com- 
plete and  ready  for  presentation  to  the  queen,  or  to  any  one, 
lord-chancellor,  prime-minister,  lord-chamberlain,  or  American 
minister,  who  would  undertake  and  faithfully  promise  to  lay  it 
before  her  majesty.  For  his  own  part,  brought  up  in  the  belief 
that  the  British  Lion  habitually  puts  his  heroic  tail  between  his 
legs  when  the  name  of  America  is  mentioned,  he  thought  that 
the  minister  of  the  States  was  the  proper  person  to  present  his 
case.  Further,  the  days  of  fatness  were  come  again.  Clara 
Martha,  in  some  secret  way  known  only  to  herself,  was  again  in 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  217 

command  of  money ;  once  more  bacon  and  tea,  and  bread  and 
butter,  if  not  coffee,  cream,  and  buckwheat  cakes,  with  maple 
syrup  and  hot  compone — delicacies  of  his  native  land — were 
spread  upon  the  board  at  eight  in  the  morning ;  and  again  the 
succulent  steak  of  Stepney,  yielding  to  none,  not  even  to  him  of 
Fleet  Street,  appeared  at  stroke  of  one  ;  and  the  noble  lord  could 
put  up  his  feet  and  rest  the  long  and  peaceful  morning  through, 
unreproached  by  his  consort.  Therefore  he  felt  no  desire  for 
any  change,  but  would  have  been  quite  content  to  go  on  forever 
enjoying  his  title  among  the  simple  folk,  and  careless  about  the 
splendors  of  his  rank.  How  Clara  Martha  got  the  money  he 
did  not  inquire.  We,  who  know,  may  express  our  fears  that 
here  was  another  glaring  violation  of  political  economy,  and  that 
the  weekly  honorarium  received  every  Saturday  by  Lady  Dave- 
nant  was  by  no  means  adequately  accounted  for  by  her  weekly 
work.  Still,  her  style  was  very  fine,  and  there  were  no  more 
delicate  workers  in  the  association  than  the  little  peeress  with 
the  narrow  shoulders  and  the  bright  eyes. 

Not  one  word,  mark  you,  spoken  of  Saturday  Davenant — that 
"  Roag  in  Grane  " — and  the  professor  as  respectful  as  if  his  lord- 
ship had  sat  through  thirty  years  of  deliberation  in  the  Upper 
House,  and  Mr.  Goslett  humbly  deferential  to  her  ladyship, 
and  in  secret  confidential  and  familiar,  even  rollicking,  with 
my  lord,  and  Miss  Kennedy  respectfully  thoughtful  for  their 
welfare. 

This  serenity  was  troubled  and  dissipated  by  the  arrival  of  a 
letter  addressed  to  Lady  Davenant. 

She  received  it — a  simple  letter  on  ordinary  note-paper — with 
surprise,  and  opened  it  with  some  suspicion.  Her  experience 
of  letters  was  not  of  late  happy,  inasmuch  as  her  recent  corre- 
spondence had  been  chiefly  with  American  friends,  who  remind- 
ed her  how  they  had  all  along  told  her  that  it  was  no  good  ex- 
pecting that  the  Davenant  claim  would  be  listened  to,  and  now 
she  saw  for  herself,  and  had  better  come  home  again  and  live 
among  the  plain  folk  of  Canaan,  and  praise  the  Lord  for  making 
her  husband  an  American  citizen — with  much  more  to  the  same 
effect,  and  cruel  words  from  Nephew  Nathaniel,  who  had  no 
ambition,  and  would  have  sold  his  heirship  to  the  coronet  for  a 
few  dollars. 

She  looked  first  at  the  signature,  and  turned  pale,  for  it  was 
10 


218  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

from  that  mysterious  young  lady,  almost  divine  in  the  eyes  of 
Stepney  because  she  was  so  rich,  Miss  Messenger. 

"  Lord !"  cried  Mrs.  Borraalack.     *'  Do  read  it  quick." 

Her  ladyship  read  it  through  very  slowly,  much  too  slowly 
for  her  landlady's  impatience. 

Her  pale  cheeks  flushed  with  pride  and  joy  when  she  com- 
prehended exactly  what  the  letter  meant ;  she  drew  herself  up 
straight,  and  her  shoulders  became  so  sloping  that  the  uneasy 
feeling  about  her  clothes,  already  alluded  to,  once  more  passed 
through  Mrs.  Bormalack's  sympathetic  mind. 

"  It  will  be  a  change,  indeed,  for  us,"  she  murmured,  looking 
at  her  husband. 

"  Change  ?"  cried  the  landlady. 

"  What  change  ?"  asked  his  lordship.  "  Clara  Martha,  I  do 
not  want  any  change ;  I  am  comfortable  here,  I  am  treated  with 
respect,  the  place  is  quiet ;  I  do  not  want  to  change." 

He  was  a  heavy  man  and  lethargic — change  meant  some  kind 
of  physical  activity — he  disliked  movement. 

His  wife  tossed  her  head  with  impatience. 

"  Oh  !"  she  cried,  "  he  would  rather  sit  in  his  arm-chair  than 
walk  even  across  the  Green  to  get  his  coronet.  Shame  upon 
him  ?    Oh,  carpenter !     Shh  !" 

His  lordship  quailed  and  said  no  more.  That  allusion  to  his 
father's  trade  was  not  intended  as  a  sneer:  the  slothfulness  of 
his  parent  it  was  which  the  lady  hurled  at  his  lordship's  head. 
No  one  could  tell,  no  living  writer  is  able  to  depict  faithfully, 
the  diflBculties  encountered  and  overcome  by  this  resolute  woman 
in  urging  her  husband  to  action :  how  she  had  first  to  persuade 
him  to  declare  that  he  was  the  heir  to  the  extinct  title  ;  how  she 
had  next  to  drag  him  away  from  Canaan  City ;  how  she  had  to 
bear  with  his  moanings,  lamentations,  and  terrors,  when  he  found 
himself  actually  on  board  the  steamer,  and  saw  the  land  slowly 
disappearing,  while  the  great  ship  rolled  beneath  his  unaccus- 
tomed feet,  and  consequences  which  he  had  not  foreseen  began 
to  follow.  These  were  things  of  the  past,  but  it  had  been  hard 
to  get  him  away  even  from  Wellclose  Square,  which  he  found 
comfortable,  making  allowance  for  the  disrespectful  Dane ;  and 
now — but  it  must  and  should  be  done. 

"  His  lordship,"  said  the  little  woman,  thinking  she  had  per- 
haps said  too  much,  "is  one  of  them  who  take  root  wherever 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  219 

you  set  them  down.  He  takes  after  his  grandfather,  the  Hon- 
orable Timothy  Clitheroe.  Set  himself  down  in  Canaan  City, 
and  took  root  at  once  ;  never  wanted  to  go  away.  And  the  Dav- 
enants,  I  am  told,  never  left  the  village  from  the  day  they  built 
their  castle  there  till  the  last  lord  died  there.  In  other  people, 
Mrs.  Bormalack,  it  might  be  called  sloth,  but  in  his  lordship's 
case  we  can  only  say  that  he  is  quick  to  take  root.  That  is  all, 
ma'am.  And  when  we  move  him,  it  is  like  tearing  him  up  by 
the  roots." 

"  It  is,"  said  his  lordship,  clinging  to  the  arms  of  the  chair ; 
"  it  is." 

The  letter  Avas  as  follows,  and  Lady  Davenant  read  it  aloud : 

"  Dear  Lady  Davenant, — I  have  quite  recently  learnetl  that  you  and  Lord 
Davenant  are  staying  at  a  house  on  Stepney  Green  which  happens  to  be  my 
property.  Otherwise,  perliaps,  I  niiglit  have  remained  in  ignorance  of  this 
most  interesting  circumstance.  I  have  also  learned  that  you  have  crossed 
the  Atlantic  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  a  claim  to  the  Davenant  title, 
which  was  long  supposed  to  be  extinct,  and  I  hasten  to  convey  to  you  ray 
most  sincere  wishes  for  your  success. 

"I  am  at  this  moment  precluded  from  doing  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling 
upon  you  for  reasons  with  which  I  will  not  trouble  you.  I  hope,  however,  to 
be  allowed  to  do  so  before  very  long.  Meantime  I  take  the  liberty  of  offer- 
ing you  the  hospitality  of  my  own  house  in  Portman  Square,  if  you  will  honor 
me  by  accepting  it,  as  your  place  of  residence  during  your  stay  in  London. 
You  will,  perhaps,  find  Portman  Square  a  central  place,  and  more  convenient 
for  j'ou  than  Stepney  Green,  which,  though  it  possesses  undoubted  advantages 
in  healthful  air  and  freedom  from  London  fog,  is  yet  not  altogether  a  desira- 
ble place  of  residence  for  a  lady  of  your  rank. 

"I  am  aware  that  in  addressing  you  without  the  ceremony  of  an  introduc- 
tion I  am  taking  what  may  seem  to  you  a  liberty.  I  may  be  pardoned  on  the 
ground  that  I  feel  so  deep  an  interest  in  your  romantic  story,  and  so  much 
sympathy  with  your  courage  in  crossing  the  ocean  to  prosecute  your  claim. 
Such  claims  as  these  are,  as  you  know,  jealously  regarded  and  sifted  with  the 
greatest  care,  so  that  there  may  be  difficulty  in  establishing  a  perfectly- 
made-out  case,  and  one  which  shall  satisfy  the  House  of  Lords  as  impregna- 
ble to  any  attack.  There  is,  however,  such  a  thing  as  a  moral  certainty,  and 
I  am  well  assured  that  Lord  Davenant  would  not  have  left  his  native  country 
had  he  not  been  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that  his  cause  is  a  just  one,  and 
that  his  claim  is  a  duty  owed  to  his  illustrious  ancestors.  So  that,  whether 
he  wins  or  loses,  whether  he  succeeds  or  fails,  he  must  in  either  case  com- 
mand our  respect  and  our  sympathy.  Under  these  circumstances  I  trust 
that  I  may  be  forgiven,  and  that  your  ladyship  will  honor  my  poor  house 
with  your  presence.  I  will  send,  always  provided  )'ou  accept,  my  carriage 
for  you  on  any  day  that  you  may  appoint.    Your  i-eply  may  be  directed  here, 


220  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

because  all  letters  are  forwarded  to  me,  thougli  I  am  not,  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, residing  at  my  town-house. 

"  Believe  me  to  remain,  dear  Lady  Davenant,  yours  very  faithfully, 

"Angela  MakSden  Messenger." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  letter!"  cried  Mrs.  Bormalack;  "and  to 
think  of  Miss  Messenger  knowing  that  this  house  is  one  of  hers ! 
Why,  she's  got  hundreds.  Now,  I  wonder  who  could  have  told 
her  that  you  were  here." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  she  saw  it  in  the  papers." 

"  What  a  providence  that  you  came  here  !  If  you  had  stayed 
at  Wellclose  Square,  which  is  a  low  place  and  only  fit  for  for- 
eigners, she  never  would  have  heard  about  you.  Well,  it  will 
be  a  sad  blow  losing  your  ladyship,  but  of  course  you  must  go. 
You  can't  refuse  such  a  noble  offer ;  and  though  I've  done  my 
best,  I'm  sure,  to  make  his  lordship  comfortable,  yet  I  know 
that  the  dinner  hasn't  always  been  such  as  I  could  wish,  though 
as  good  as  the  money  would  run  to.  And  we  can't  hope  to 
rival  Miss  Messenger,  of  course,  in  housekeeping,  though  I 
should  like  to  hear  what  she  gives  for  dinner." 

"You  shall,  Mrs.  Bormalack,"  said  her  ladyship;  "I  will 
send  you  word  myself,  and  I  am  sure  we  are  very  grateful  to 
you  for  all  your  kindness,  and  especially  at  times  when — when 
my  husband's  nephew  Nathaniel,  who  is  not  the  whole-souled 
and  high-toned  man  that  the  heir  to  a  peerage  ought  to 
be—" 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,"  interrupted  the  good  landlady — "  don't 
speak  of  it,  your  ladyship.  It  will  always  be  my  pride  to  re- 
member that  your  ladyship  thought  I  did  my  little  best.  But 
then,  with  mutton  at  elevenpence  ha'penny !" 

The  name  of  Portman  Square  suggested  nothing  at  all  to  the 
illustrious  pair.  It  might  just  as  well  have  been  Wellclose 
Square.  But  here  was  an  outside  recognition  of  them ;  and 
from  a  very  rich  young  lady,  who,  perhaps,  was  herself  acquaint- 
ed with  some  of  the  members  of  the  Upper  House. 

"  It  is  a  proper  letter,"  said  Lady  Davenant,  critically,  "  a  let- 
ter written  in  a  becoming  spirit.  There's  many  things  to  admire 
in  England,  but  the  best  thing  is  the  respect  to  rank.  Now,  in 
our  own  city  did  they  respect  his  lordship  for  his  family  ?  Not 
a  mite.  The  boys  drew  pictures  of  him  on  the  walls  with  a 
crown  on  his  head  and  a  sword  in  his  hand." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  221 

"  Must  we  go,  Clara  Martha  ?"  his  lordsliip  asked,  in  a  tremu- 
lous voice. 

"  Yes,  we  must  go ;  we  must  show  people  that  we  arc  readj 
to  assume  the  dignity  of  the  position.  As  for  my  husband, 
Mrs.  Bormalack" — she  looked  at  him  sideways  while  she  ad- 
dressed the  landlady — "  there  are  times  when  I  feel  that  nothing 
but  noble  blood  confers  real  dignity  " — his  lordship  coughed — 
"  real  dignity  and  a  determination  to  have  your  rights,  and  a 
behavior  according." 

Lord  Davenant  straightened  his  back  and  held  up  his  head. 
But  when  his  wife  left  him  he  drooped  it  again  and  looked  sad. 

Lady  Davenant  took  the  letter  with  her  to  show  Miss  Ken- 
nedy. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  old  friends,  my  dear,"  she  said,  kindly, 
when  Angela  had  read  it  through,  "  never ;  and  your  kindness 
in  my  distress  I  could  not  forget  if  I  tried."  The  tears  stood 
in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke.  "We  are  standing  now  on  the  very 
threshold  of  greatness ;  this  is  the  first  step  to  recognition ;  a 
short  time  more  and  my  husband  will  be  in  his  right  place 
among  the  British  peers.  As  for  myself,  I  don't  seem  to  mind 
any.  Miss  Kennedy,  It's  for  him  that  I  mind.  Once  in  his  own 
place,  he  will  show  the  world  what  he  is  capable  of.  You  only 
think  of  him  as  a  sleepy  old  man,  who  likes  to  put  up  his  feet 
and  shut  his  eyes.  So  he  is — so  he  is.  But  wait  till  he  gets 
his  own.  Then  you  will  see.  As  for  eloquence,  now,  I  remem- 
ber one  Fourth  of  July — but,  of  course,  we  were  Araer'cans 
then." 

"  Indeed,  Lady  Davenant,  we  shall  all  be  rejoiced  if  you  suc- 
ceed. But  do  not  forget  Miss  Messenger's  warning.  There  is 
a  moral  success,  and  there  is  a  legal  success.  You  may  have  to 
be  contented  with  the  former.  But  that  should  be  enough  for 
you,  and  you  would  then  return  to  your  own  people  with  tri- 
umph." 

"  Aurelia  Tucker,"  said  her  ladyship,  smiling  gently,  "  will 
wish  she  hadn't  taken  up  the  prophesyin'  line.  I  shall  forgive 
her,  though  envy  is  indeed  a  hateful  passion.  However,  we 
cannot  all  have  illustrious  ancestors,  though,  since  our  own  ele- 
vation, there's  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  Canaan  City,  ex- 
cept the  Dutchmen,  who  hasn't  connected  himself  with  an  Eng- 
lish family,  and  the  demand  for  Red-books  and  books  of  the 


222  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

county  families  is  more  than  you  could  believe,  and  they  do  say 
that  many  a  British  peer  will  have  to  tremble  for  his  title." 

"  Come,"  said  Angela,  interrupting  these  interesting  facts — 
"come.  Lady  Davenant,  I  knew  beforehand  of  this  letter,  and 
Miss  Messenger  has  given  me  work  in  anticipation  of  your  visit." 

She  led  the  little  lady  to  the  showroom,  and  here,  laid  out 
on  the  chairs,  were  marvels.  For  there  were  dresses  in  silk  aud 
in  velvet :  dresses  of  the  best  silk,  moire  antique,  brocaded  silk, 
silk  that  would  stand  upright  of  itself  without  the  aid  of  a  chair- 
back,  and  velvet  of  the  richest,  the  blackest,  and  the  most  cost- 
ly. There  could  be  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the  person  for 
whom  these  dresses  had  been  designed,  because  nobody  else  had 
such  narrow  and  such  sloping  shoulders.  Never  in  her  dreams 
had  her  ladyship  thought  it  possible  that  she  should  wear  such 
dresses. 

*'  They  are  a  present  from  Miss  Messenger,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
nedy.   "  Now,  if  you  please,  we  will  go  into  the  trying-on  room." 

Then  Lady  Davenant  discovered  that  these  dresses  were 
trimmed  with  lace,  also  of  the  most  beautiful  and  delicate  kind. 
She  had  sometimes  seen  lace  during  her  professional  career,  but 
she  never  possessed  any,  and  the  sight  of  it  created  a  kind  of 
yearning  in  her  heart  to  have  it  on,  actually  on  her  sleeves  and 
round  her  neck. 

When  she  was  dressed  in  her  velvet  with  the  lace  trimming 
she  looked  a  very  stately  little  lady.  When  Angela  had  hung 
about  her  neck  a  heavy  gold  chain  with  a  watch  and  seals ;  when 
she  had  deftly  added  a  touch  to  her  still  luxuriant  hair,  and  set 
in  it  a  small  aigrette  of  brilliants ;  when  she  had  put  on  her  a 
pair  of  gloves  and  given  her  a  large  and  beautifully  painted  fan, 
there  was  no  nobler-looking  lady  in  the  land,  for  all  she  was  so 
little. 

Then  Angela  courtesied  low,  and  begged  her  ladyship  to  ex- 
amine the  dress  in  the  glass.  Her  ladyship  surveyed  herself 
with  an  astonishment  and  delight  impossible  to  be  repressed, 
although  they  detracted  somewhat  from  the  dignity  due  to  the 
dress. 

"  Oh,  Aurelia !"  she  exclaimed,  as  if,  in  the  joy  of  her  heart, 
she  could  have  wished  her  friend  to  share  her  happiness. 

Then  Miss  Kennedy  explained  to  her  that  the  velvet  and  the 
magnificent  silk  dresses  were  for  the  evening  only,  while  for  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  223 

morning  there  were  other  black  silk  dresses,  with  beautiful  fur 
cloaks  and  things  for  carriage  exercise,  and  all  kinds  of  things 
provided,  so  that  she  might  make  a  becoming  appearance  in 
Portman  Square. 

"  As  for  his  lordship,"  Miss  Kennedy  went  on,  "  steps  have 
been  taken  to  provide  him  also  with  garments  due  to  his  posi- 
tion. And  I  think.  Lady  Davenant,  if  I  may  venture  to  ad- 
vise— " 

"  My  dear,"  said  her  ladyship,  simply,  "  just  tell  me,  right 
away,  what  I  am  to  do." 

"  Then  you  are  to  write  to  Miss  Messenger  and  tell  her  that 
you  will  be  ready  to-morrow  morning,  and  say  any  kind  thing 
that  occurs  to  your  kind  heart.  And  then  you  will  have  undis- 
turbed possession  of  the  big  house  in  Portman  Square,  with  all 
its  servants — butler,  coachman,  footmen,  and  the  rest  of  them — 
at  your  orders.  And  I  beg — that  is,  I  hope — that  you  will  make 
use  of  them.  Remember  that  a  nobleman's  servant  expects  to 
be  ordered,  not  asked.  Drive  every  day ;  go  to  the  theatres  to 
amuse  yourselves — I  am  sure  after  all  this  time  you  want  amuse- 
ment." 

"  We  had  lectures  at  Canaan  City,"  said  her  ladyship ;  "  shall 
we  go  to  lectures  ?" 

"  N — no.  I  think  there  are  none.  But  you  should  go  to 
concerts  if  you  like  them,  and  to  picture-galleries.  Be  seen 
about  a  good  deal ;  make  people  talk  about  you,  and  do  not 
press  your  case  until  you  have  been  talked  about." 

"Do  you  think  I  can  persuade  Timothy — I  mean  his  lordship 
— to  go  about  with  me  ?" 

"  You  will  have  the  carriage,  you  know ;  and  if  he  likes  he 
can  sleep  at  the  theatre ;  you  have  only  to  take  a  private  box — 
but  be  seen  and  be  talked  about." 

This  seemed  very  good  advice.  Lady  Davenant  laid  it  to 
heart.  Then  she  took  off  her  magnificent  velvet  and  put  on  the 
humble  stuff  again,  with  a  sigh.  Happily,  it  was  the  last  day 
she  would  wear  it. 

On  returning  to  the  boarding-house  she  found  her  husband  in 
great  agitation,  for  he,  too,  had  been  "  trying  on,"  and  he  had 
been  told  peremptorily  that  the  whole  of  the  existing  wardrobe 
must  be  abolished,  and  changed  for  a  new  one  which  had  been 
provided  for  him.     The  good  old  coat,  whose  sleeves  were  so 


224  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

shiny,  whose  skirts  so  curly,  whose  cuffs  so  worn,  must  be  aban- 
doned ;  the  other  things,  which  long  custom  had  adapted  to  ev- 
ery projection  of  his  figure,  must  go  too ;  and  in  place  of  them, 
the  new  things  which  he  had  just  been  trying  on. 

"  There's  a  swallow-tail,  Clara  Martha,  for  evening  wear.  I 
shall  have  to  change  my  clothes,  they  tell  me,  every  evening; 
apd  frock-coats  to  button  down  the  front  like  a  congressman  in 
a  statue ;  and — oh !  Clara  Martha,  we  are  going  to  have  a  terri- 
ble time !" 

"  Courage,  my  lord,"  she  said.  "  The  end  will  reward  us. 
Only  hold  up  your  head,  and  remember  that  you  are  enjoying 
the  title." 

The  evening  was  rather  sad,  though  the  grief  of  the  noble 
pair  at  leaving  their  friends  was  shared  by  none  but  their  land- 
lady, who  really  was  attached  to  the  little  birdlike  woman,  so 
resolute  and  so  full  of  courage.  As  for  the  rest,  they  behaved 
as  members  of  a  happy  family  are  expected  to  behave — that  is 
to  say,  they  paid  no  heed  whatever  to  the  approaching  depart- 
ure of  two  out  of  their  number ;  and  Josephus  leaned  his  head 
against  the  wall,  and  Daniel  Fagg  plunged  his  hands  into  his 
hair,  and  old  Mr.  Maliphant  sat  in  the  corner  with  his  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  and  narrated  bits  of  stories  to  himself  and  laughed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

LORD    DAVENANT's    GREATNESS. 


Probably  no  greater  event  had  ever  happened  within  the 
memory  of  Stepney  Green  than  the  arrival  of  Miss  Messenger's 
carriage  to  take  away  the  illustrious  pair  from  the  boarding- 
house.  Mrs.  Bormalack  felt,  with  a  pang  when  she  saw  the  pair 
of  grays,  with  the  coachman  and  footman  on  the  box,  actually 
standing  before  her  own  door,  for  all  to  see,  as  if  she  had  not 
thoroughly  appreciated  the  honor  of  having  a  peer  and  his  con- 
sort residing  under  her  roof,  and  paying  every  week  for  board 
and  lodging  the  moderate  sum  of — but  she  could  not  bear  to 
put  it  into  words.     Now,  however,  they  were  going. 

His  lordship,  in  his  new  frock-coat  tightly  buttoned,  stood, 
looking  constrained  and  stiff,  with  one  hand  on  the  table  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  225 

the  other  thrust  into  his  breast,  like  a  certain  well-known  statue 
of  Washington.  His  wife  had  instructed  him  to  assume  this 
attitude.  With  him  were  Daniel  Fagg,  the  professor,  and  Har- 
ry, the  rest  of  the  boarders  being  engaged  in  their  several  occu- 
pations. Mrs.  Bormalack  was  putting  the  final  touches  to  Lady 
Davenant's  morning  toilet. 

"  If  I  was  a  lord,"  said  Daniel,  "  I  should  become  a  great  pa- 
tron to  discoverers.     I  would  publish  their  works  for  them." 

"  I  will,  Mr.  Fagg,  I  will,"  said  his  lordship  ;  "  give  me  time 
to  look  around  and  to  see  how  the  dollars  come  in.  Because, 
gentlemen,  as  Clara  Martha — I  mean  her  ladyship — is  not  ready 
yet,  there  is  time  for  me  to  explain  that  I  don't  quite  know  what 
is  to  happen  next,  nor  where  those  dollars  are  to  come  from,  un- 
less it  is  from  the  Davenant  estates.  But  I  don't  think,  Mr. 
Fagg,  that  we  shall  forget  old  friends.  A  man  born  to  a  peer- 
age— that  is  an  accident,  or  the  gift  of  Providence ;  but  to  be  a 
Hebrew  scholar  comes  from  genius.  When  a  man  has  been  a 
school-teacher  for  near  upon  forty  years  he  knows  what  genius 
means — and  it's  skurse,  even  in  Amer'ca." 

"  Then,  my  lord,"  said  Daniel,  producing  his  note-book,  "  I 
may  put  your  lordship's  name  down  for — how  many  copies  ?" 

"  Wal,  Mr.  Fagg,  I  don't  care  how  many  copies  you  put  my 
name  down  for,  provided  you  don't  ask  for  payment  until  the 
way  is  clear.  I  don't  suppose  they  will  play  it  so  low  on  a 
man  as  to  give  him  his  peerage  without  a  mite  of  income,  even 
if  it  has  to  be  raised  by  a  tax  on  somethin'." 

"  American  beef  will  have  to  be  taxed,"  said  Harry.  "  Never 
fear,  my  lord,  we  will  pull  you  through,  somehow.  As  Miss 
Messenger  said,  '  moral  certainty '  is  a  fine  card  to  play,  even  if 
the  committee  of  the  House  of  Lords  don't  recognize  the  con- 
nection." 

The  professor  looked  guilty,  thinking  of  that "  Roag  in  Grane," 
Saturday  Davenant,  wheelwright,  who  went  to  the  American  col- 
onies. 

Then  her  ladyship  appeared,  complete  and  ready,  dressed  in 
her  black  silk,  with  a  fur  cloak  and  a  magnificent  muff  of  sable, 
stately,  gracious,  and  happy.  After  her,  Mrs.  Bormalack,  awed. 
"I  am  ready,  my  lord,"  she  said,  standing  in  the  doorway. 
"  My  friends,  we  shall  not  forget  those  who  were  hospitable  to 
us  and  kind  in  the  days  of  our  adversity.  Mr.  Fagg,  you  may 
10* 


226  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

depend  upon  us ;  you  have  his  lordship's  permission  to  dedicate 
your  book  to  his  lordship ;  we  shall  sometimes  speak  of  your 
discovery.  The  world  of  fashionable  London  shall  hear  of  your 
circles." 

"  Triangles,  my  lady,"  said  Daniel,  bowing. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Fagg,  I  ought  to  have  known ;  and 
the  triangle  goes  with  the  fife  and  the  drum  in  all  the  militia 
regiments.  Professor,  if  there  is  any  place  in  Portman  Square 
where  an  entertainment  can  be  held,  we  will  remember  you. 
Mr.  Goslett — ah!  Mr.  Goslett — we  shall  miss  you,  very  much. 
Often  and  often  has  my  husband  said  that  but  for  your  timely 
aid  he  must  have  broken  down.  What  can  we  now  do  for  you, 
Mr.  Goslett?" 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  generous  than  this  dispensing 
of  patronage. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Harry,  "  but  I  thank  you  all  the  same." 

"  Perhaps  Miss  Messenger  wants  a  cabinet  made." 

"  No,  no !"  he  cried,  hastily.  "  I  don't  want  to  make  cabinets 
for  Miss  Messenger.  I  mend  the  office  stools  for  the  Brewery, 
and  I  work  for — for  Miss  Kennedy,"  he  added,  with  a  blush. 

Lady  Davenant  nodded  her  head  and  laughed.  So  happy  was 
she  that  she  could  even  show  for  the  first  time  an  interest  in 
something  outside  the  case. 

"  A  handsome  couple,"  she  said,  simply.  "  Yes,  my  dear,  go 
on  working  for  Miss  Kennedy,  because  she  is  worth  it.  And 
now,  my  lord  !     Gentlemen,  I  wish  you  farewell." 

She  made  the  most  stately,  the  most  dignified  obeisance,  and 
turned  to  leave  them.  But  Harry  sprang  to  the  front  and  of- 
fered his  arm. 

"  Permit  me.  Lady  Davenant." 

It  was  extraordinary  enough  for  the  coachman  to  be  ordered 
to  Stepney  Green  to  take  up  a  lord ;  it  was  more  extraordinary 
to  see  that  lord's  noble  lady  falling  on  the  neck  of  an  ordinary 
female  in  a  black  stuff  gown  and  an  apron,  namely,  Mrs.  Bor- 
malack ;  and  still  more  wonderful  to  see  that  noble  lady  led  to 
the  carriage  by  a  young  gentleman  who  seemed  to  belong  to  the 
place. 

"  I  know  him,"  said  James,  the  footman,  presently. 

"  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  He's  Mr.  Le  Breton,  nephew  or  something  of  Lord  Jocelyn. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  227 

I've  seen  him  about,  and  what  he's  doing  on  Stepney  Green  the 
Lord  only  knows." 

"  James  !"  said  the  coachman. 

"  John  !"  said  the  footman. 

"When  you  don't  understand  what  a  young  gentleman  is 
a-doin',  what  does  a  man  of  your  experience  conclude  ?" 

"  John,"  said  the  footman,  "  you  are  right  as  usual.  But  I 
didn't  see  her." 

There  was  a  little  crowd  outside,  and  it  was  a  proud  moment 
for  Lady  Davenant  when  she  walked  through  the  lane — which 
she  could  have  wished  a  mile  long — formed  by  the  spectators, 
and  took  her  place  in  the  open  carriage  beneath  the  great  fur 
rug.  nis  lordship  followed  with  a  look  of  sadness  or  appre- 
hension rather  than  triumph.  The  door  was  slammed,  the  foot- 
man mounted  the  box,  and  the  carriage  drove  off.  One  boy 
called  "  Hooray  !"  and  jumped  on  the  curb-stone ;  to  him  Lord 
Davenant  took  off  his  hat;  another  turned  Catherine -wheels 
along  the  road,  and  Lord  Davenant  took  off  his  hat  to  him,  too, 
with  aristocratic  impartiality,  till  the  coachman  flicked  at  him 
with  his  whip,  and  then  he  ran  behind  the  carriage  and  used 
language  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

"  Timothy,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  would  that  Aurelia  Tucker 
were  here  to  see  !" 

He  only  groaned.  How  could  he  tell  what  sufferings  in  the 
shape  of  physical  activity  might  be  before  him  ?  When  would 
he  be  able  to  put  up  his  feet  again  ?  One  little  disappointment 
marred  the  complete  joy  of  the  departure.  It  was  strange  that 
Miss  Kennedy,  who  had  taken  so  much  interest  in  the  business, 
who  had  herself  tried  on  the  dresses,  should  not  have  been  there 
to  see.  It  was  not  kind  of  her — who  was  usually  so  very  kind — 
to  be  absent  on  this  important  occasion. 

They  arrived  at  Portman  Square  a  little  before  one. 

Miss  Messenger  sent  them  her  compliments  by  her  own  maid, 
and  hoped  they  would  be  perfectly  comfortable  in  her  house, 
which  was  placed  entirely  at  their  disposal.  She  was  only  sor- 
ry that  absence  from  town  would  prevent  her  from  personally 
receiving  Lady  Davenant. 

The  spaciousness  of  the  rooms,  the  splendor  of  the  furniture, 
the  presence  of  many  servants,  awed  the  simple  little  American 
woman.     She  followed  her  guide,  who  offered  to  show  them  the 


228  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

house,  and  led  them  into  all  the  rooms — the  great  and  splendid- 
ly furnished  drawing-room,  the  dining-room,  the  morning-room, 
and  the  library — without  saying  a  word.  Her  husband  walked 
after  her  in  the  deepest  dejection,  hanging  his  head  and  dangling 
his  hands  in  forgetfulness  of  the  statuesque  attitude.  He  saw 
no  chance  whatever  for  a  place  of  quiet  meditation. 

Presently  they  came  back  to  the  morning-room.  It  was  a 
pleasant,  sunny  room,  not  so  large  as  the  great  dining-room,  nor 
so  gaunt  in  its  furniture,  nor  was  it  hung  with  immense  pictures 
of  game  and  fruit,  but  with  light  and  bright  water-colors. 

"  I  should  like,"  said  her  ladyship,  hesitating,  because  she  was 
a  little  afraid  that  her  dignity  demanded  that  they  should  use 
the  biggest  room  of  all — "  I  should  like,  if  we  could,  to  sit  in 
this  room  when  we  are  alone." 

"  Certainly,  my  lady." 

"  We  are  simple  people,"  she  went  on,  trying  to  make  it  clear 
why  they  liked  simplicity,  "  and  accustomed  to  a  plain  way  of 
life,  so  that  his  lordship  does  not  look  for  the  splendor  that  be- 
longs to  his  position." 

"  No,  my  lady." 

*'  Therefore,  if  we  may  use  this  room  mostly — and — and  keep 
the  drawing-room  for  when  we  have  company — "  She  looked 
timidly  at  the  grave  young  woman  who  was  to  be  her  maid. 

"  Certainly,  my  lady." 

**  As  to  his  lordship,"  she  went  on,  "  I  beg  that  he  may  be 
undisturbed  in  the  morning  when  he  sits  in  the  library.  He  is 
much  occupied  in  the  morning." 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  I  think  I  noticed,"  said  Lord  Davenant,  a  little  more  cheer- 
fully, "  as  we  walked  through  the  library,  a  most  beautiful  chair." 
He  cleared  his  throat,  but  said  no  more. 

Then  they  were  shown  their  own  rooms,  and  told  that  lunch- 
eon would  be  served  immediately. 

"And  I  hope,  Clara  Martha,"  said  his  lordship  when  they 
were  alone,  "  that  luncheon  in  this  house  means  something  solid 
and  substantial.  Fried  oysters,  now,  with  a  beefsteak  and  to- 
matoes, and  a  little  green  corn  in  the  ear,  I  should  like." 

"  It  will  be  something,  my  dear,  worthy  of  our  rank.  I  al- 
most regret,  now,  that  you  are  a  teetotaller.  Wine,  somehow, 
belongs  to  a  title.     Do  you  think  that  you  could  break  your 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  229 

VOW  and  take  one  glass,  or  even  two,  of  wine,  just  to  show  that 
you  are  equal  to  the  position  ?" 

''  No,  Clara  Martha,"  her  husband  replied  with  decision.  "  No, 
I  will  not  break  the  pledge,  not  even  for  a  glass  of  old  Bourbon." 

There  were  no  fried  oysters  at  that  day's  luncheon,  nor  any 
green  corn  in  the  ear,  but  it  was  the  best  square  meal  that  his 
lordship  had  ever  sat  down  to  in  his  life.  Yet  it  was  marred  by 
the  presence  of  an  imposing  footman,  who  seemed  to  be  watch- 
ing to  see  how  much  an  American  could  eat.  This  caused  his 
lordship  to  drop  knives  and  upset  glasses,  and  went  very  near  to 
mar  the  enjoyment  of  the  meal. 

After  the  luncheon  he  bethought  him  of  the  chair  in  the 
library,  and  retired  there.  It  was,  indeed,  a  most  beautiful  chair, 
low  in  the  seat,  broad  and  deep,  not  too  soft,  and  there  was  a 
footstool.  His  lordship  sat  down  in  this  chair  beside  a  large 
and  cheerful  fire,  put  up  his  feet,  and  surveyed  the  room.  Books 
were  ranged  round  all  the  walls,  books  from  floor  to  ceiling; 
there  was  a  large  table  with  many  drawers,  covered  with  papers, 
magazines,  and  reviews,  and  provided  with  ink  and  pens.  The 
door  was  shut,  and  there  was  no  sound  save  of  a  passing  car- 
riage in  the  square. 

"  This,"  said  his  lordship,  "  seems  better  than  Stepney  Green. 
I  wish  my  nephew  Nathaniel  was  here  to  see." 

With  these  words  upon  his  lips  he  fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

At  half-past  three  his  wife  came  to  wake  him  up.  She  had 
ordered  the  carriage,  and  was  ready  and  eager  for  another  drive 
along  those  wonderful  streets  which  she  had  seen  for  the  first 
time.  She  roused  him  with  great  difficulty,  and  persuaded  him, 
not  without  words  of  refusal,  to  come  with  her.  Of  course  she 
was  perfectly  wide-awake. 

"  This,"  she  cried,  once  more  in  the  carriage — "  this  is  Lon- 
don indeed.  Oh !  to  think  that  we  have  wasted  months  at 
Stepney,  thinking  that  was  town.  Timothy,  we  must  wake  up  ; 
we  have  a  great  deal  to  see  and  to  learn.  Look  at  the  shops, 
look  at  the  carriages.  Do  tell.  It's  better  than  Boston  city. 
Now  we  have  got  the  carriage,  we  will  go  out  every  day  and  see 
something ;  I've  told  them  to  drive  past  the  queen's  palace,  and 
to  show  us  where  the  Prince  of  Wales  lives.  Before  long  we 
shall  go  there  ourselves,  of  course,  with  the  rest  of  the  nobility. 
There's  only  one  thing  that  troubles  me." 


230  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  What  is  that,  Clara  Martha  ?  You  air  thinkin',  perhaps,  that 
it  isn't  in  nature  for  them  to  keep  the  dinners  every  day  up  to 
the  same  pitch  of  elevation  ?" 

She  repressed  her  indignation  at  this  unworthy  suggestion. 

"  No,  Timothy ;  and  I  hope  your  lordship  will  remember  that 
in  our  position  we  can  afford  to  despise  mere  considerations  of 
meat  and  drink,  and  wherewithal  we  shall  be  clothed."  She 
spoke  as  if  pure  Christianity  was  impossible  beneath  their  rank, 
and,  indeed,  she  had  never  felt  so  truly  virtuous  before.  "  No, 
Timothy,  my  trouble  is  that  we  want  to  see  everything  there  is 
to  be  seen." 

"  That  is  so,  Clara  Martha.  Let  us  sit  in  this  luxurious  chaise, 
and  see  it  all.  I  never  get  tired  o'  settin',  and  I  like  to  see 
things." 

"  But  we  can  only  see  the  things  that  cost  nothing,  or  the 
outside  of  things,  because  we've  got  no  money." 

"  No  money  at  all !" 

"  None ;  only  seven  shillings  and  threepence  in  coppers. 

This  was  the  dreadful  truth.  Mrs.  Bormalack  had  been  paid, 
and  the  seven  shillings  was  all  that  remained. 

"  And,  oh,  there  is  so  much  to  see  !  We'd  always  intended 
to  run  round  some  day,  only  we  were  too  busy  with  the  case  to 
find  the  time,  and  see  all  the  shows  w^e'd  heard  tell  of — ^the 
Tower  of  London  and  Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  Monument, 
and  Mr.  Spurgeon's  Tabernacle — but  we  never  thought  things 
were  so  grand  as  this.  When  we  get  home  we  will  ask  for  a 
guide-book  of  London,  and  pick  out  all  the  things  that  arc  open 
free." 

That  day  they  drove  up  and  down  the  streets  gazing  at  the 
crowds  and  the  shops.  When  they  got  home,  tea  was  brought 
them  in  the  morning-room,  and  his  lordship,  who  took  it  for  an- 
other square  meal,  requested  the  loaf  to  be  brought,  and  did 
great  things  with  the  bread  and  butter — having  no  footman  to 
fear. 

At  half-past  seven  a  bell  rang,  and  presently  Miss  Messenger's 
maid  came  and  whispered  that  it  was  the  first  bell,  and  would 
her  ladyship  go  to  her  own  room,  and  could  she  be  of  any  help. 

Lady  Davenant  rose  at  once,  looking,  however,  much  surprised. 
She  went  to  her  own  room,  followed  by  her  husband,  too  much 
astonished  to  ask  what  the  thing  meant. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  231 

There  was  a  beautiful  fire  in  the  room,  which  was  very  large 
and  luxuriously  furnished,  and  lit  with  gas  burning  in  soft-col- 
ored glass. 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  delightful,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  and 
this  room  is  a  picture.     But  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  Perhaps  it's  the  custom,"  said  her  husband,  "  for  the  aris- 
tocracy to  meditate  in  their  bedrooms." 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  she  repeated.  "  The  girl  said  the 
first  bell.  What  is  the  second  ?  They  can't  mean  us  to  go  to 
bed." 

"  They  must,"  said  his  lordship.  "  Yes,  we  must  go  to  bed. 
And  there  will  be  no  supper  to-night.  To-morrow,  Clara  Mar- 
tha, you  must  speak  about  it,  and  say  we're  accustomed  to  later 
hours.  At  nine  o'clock  or  ten  we  can  go  with  a  cheerful  heart — 
after  supper.  But — well — it  looks  a  soft  bed,  and  I  dare  say  I 
can  sleep  in  it.  You've  nothing  to  say,  Clara  Martha,  before  I 
shut  my  eyes  ?  Because  if  you  have,  get  it  off  your  mind,  so's 
not  to  disturb  me  afterwards." 

He  proceeded  to  undress  ia  his  most  leisurely  manner,  and  in 
ten  minutes  or  so  was  getting  into  bed.  Just  as  his  head  fell 
upon  the  pillows  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

It  was  the  maid,  who  came  to  say  that  she  had  forgotten  to 
tell  her  ladyship  that  dinner  was  at  eight. 

"What?"  cried  the  poor  lady,  startled  out  of  her  dignity. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  we've  got  to  have  dinner  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  lady."  This  young  person  was  extremely  well 
behaved,  and  in  presence  of  her  masters  and  mistresses  and  su- 
periors knew  not  the  nature  of  a  smile. 

U  My !" 

Her  ladyship,  standing  at  the  door,  looked  first  at  the  maid 
without  and  then  at  her  husband,  whose  eyes  were  closed,  and 
who  was  experiencing  the  first  and  balmy  influences  of  sweet 
sleep.     She  felt  so  helpless  that  she  threw  away  her  dignity,  and 
cast  herself  upon  the  lady's-maid.    "  See  now !"  she  said ;  "  what 
is  your  name,  my  dear  ?" 
"  Campion,  my  lady." 
"  I  suppose  you've  got  a  Christian  name  ?" 
"  I  mean  that  Miss  Messenger  always  calls  me  Campion." 
*'  Well,  then,  I  suppose  I  must  too.     We  are  simple  people, 
Miss  Campion,  and  not  long  from  America,  where  they  do  things 
Q 


232  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

different,  and  have  dinner  at  half-past  twelve  and  supper  at  six. 
And  my  husband  has  gone  to  bed.     What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

That  a  gentleman  should  suppose  bed  possible  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening  was  a  thing  so  utterly  inconceivable  that  Campion 
could  for  the  moment  suggest  nothing.  She  only  stared.  Pres- 
ently she  ventured  to  suggest  that  his  lordship  might  get  up 
again. 

"  Get  up,  Timothy,  get  up  this  minute  !"  Her  ladyship  shook 
and  pushed  him  till  he  opened  his  eyes  and  lifted  his  head. 
"  Don't  stop  to  ask  questions,  but  get  up,  right  away."  Then 
she  ran  back  to  the  door.     "  Miss  Campion  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  I  don't  mind  much  about  myself,  but  it  might  not  look  well 
for  his  lordship  not  to  seem  to  know  things  just  exactly  how 
they're  done  in  England.  So  please  don't  tell  the  servants.  Miss 
Campion." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  maid's  arm  and  looked  so  earnest 
that  the  girl  felt  sorry  for  her. 

"  No,  my  lady,"  she  replied.  And  she  kept  her  word,  so  that 
though  the  servants'  hall  knew  how  the  noble  lord  and  his  lady 
had  been  brought  from  Stepney  Green,  and  how  his  lordship 
floundered  among  the  plates  at  lunch,  and  ate  up  half  a  loaf 
with  afternoon  tea,  they  did  not  know  that  he  went  to  bed  in- 
stead of  dressing  for  dinner. 

"  And,  Miss  Campion  " — she  was  now  outside  the  door,  hold- 
ing it  ajar,  and  the  movements  of  a  heavy  body  hastily  putting 
on  clothes  could  be  distinctly  heard — "  you  will  please  tell  me, 
presently,  what  time  they  do  have  things." 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

*'  Family  prayers,  now  ?  His  lordship  will  lead,  of  course,  a 
thing  he  is  quite  used  to,  and  can  do  better  than  most,  having 
always — "  here  she  stopped,  remembering  that  there  was  no 
absolute  necessity  to  explain  the  duties  of  a  village  school- 
master. 

"  There  are  no  family  prayers,  my  lady,  and  your  lordship  can 
have  dinner  or  any  other  meal  at  any  time  you  please." 

"  His  lordship's  times  for  meals  will  be  those  of  his  brother 
peers." 

"  Yes,  my  lady.     Breakfast  at  ten  ?" 

"Ten  will  do  perfectly."     It  was  two  hours  later  than  their 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  23S' 

usual  time,  and  her  husband's  sufferings  would  be  very  great. 
Still,  everything  must  give  way  to  the  responsibilities  of  the  rank. 

"  Will  your  ladyship  take  luncheon  at  half -past  one,  and  tea 
at  half-past  five,  and  dinner  at  eight  ?" 

"  Yes,  now  that  Ave  know  them,  these  hours  will  suit  me  per- 
fectly. We  do  not  in  our  own  country  take  tea  before  dinner, 
but  after  it.     That  is  nothing,  however.     And  supper  ?" 

"  Your  ladyship  can  have  supper  whenever  you  want  it,"  re- 
plied the  maid.  She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 
"  It  is  not  usual  for  supper  to  be  served  at  all." 

*'  Oh  !  then  we  must  go  without." 

By  this  time  her  husband  was  dressed,  and,  obedient  to  in- 
struction, he  had  put  on  his  new  dress-coat,  without,  however, 
making  any  alteration  in  the  rest  of  his  morning  garments.  The 
effect,  therefore,  when  they  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  would 
have  been  very  startling  but  for  the  fact  that  there  was  nobody 
to  see  it. 

If  luncheon  was  a  great  meal,  dinner  was  far  more  magnifi- 
cent and  stately ;  only  there  were  two  footmen  instead  of  one, 
and  his  lordship  felt  that  he  could  not  do  that  justice  to  the 
dinner  which  the  dinner  deserved,  because  those  two  great  hulk- 
ing fellows  in  livery  watched  him  all  the  time.  After  dinner 
they  sat  in  the  great  drawing-room,  feeling  very  magnificent  and 
yet  uncomfortable. 

"The  second  dinner,"  said  his  lordship,  in  a  half -whisper, 
"  made  me  feel,  Clara  Martha,  that  we  did  right  to  leave  Canaan 
City.  I  never  before  knew  what  they  really  meant  by  enjoying 
a  title,  and  I  don't  think  I  ever  thoroughly  enjoyed  it  before. 
The  red  mullet  was  beautiful,  and  the  little  larks  in  paper  bas- 
kets made  me  feel  a  lord  all  over." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE    SAME    SIGNS. 


"  This  he  has  done — for  love." 

When  Angela  returned  to  her  dressmakery,  it  was  with  these 
words  ringing  in  her  ears,  like  some  refrain  which  continually 
returns  and  will  not  be  silenced. 


234  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN, 

"  This  he  has  done — for  love." 

It  was  a  great  deal  to  do — a  great  deal  to  give  up ;  she  fully 
realized,  after  her  talk  with  Lord  Jocelyn,  how  much  it  was  that 
he  had  given  up — at  her  request.  What  had  she  herself  done, 
she  asked,  in  comparison?  She  had  given  money  —  anybody 
could  give  money.  She  had  lived  in  disguise,  under  false  pre- 
tences, for  a  few  months ;  but  she  never  intended  to  go  on  liv- 
ing in  the  East  End,  after  she  had  set  her  association  on  a  firm 
basis.  To  be  sure,  she  had  been  drawn  on  into  wider  schemes, 
and  could  not  retire  until  these,  including  the  Palace  of  Delight, 
were  well  started.  But  this  young  man  had  given  up  all,  cheer- 
fully, for  her  sake.  Because  she  was  a  dressmaker,  and  lived  at 
Stepney,  he  would  be  a  workman  and  live  there  as  well.  For 
her  sake  he  had  given  up  forever  the  life  of  ease  and  culture, 
which  might  have  been  his,  among  the  gentlefolk  to  whom  he 
belonged ;  for  her  sake  he  left  the  man  who  stood  to  him  in  loco 
parentis  ;  for  her  sake  he  gave  up  all  the  things  that  are  dear 
to  young  men,  and  became  a  servant.  And  without  a  murmur. 
She  watched  him  going  to  his  work  in  the  morning,  cheerful, 
with  the  sunshine  ever  in  his  face — in  fact,  sunshine  lived  there — 
his  head  erect,  his  eyes  fearless,  not  repenting  at  all  of  his  choice, 
perhaps  hopeful  that  in  the  long  run  these  impediments  spoken 
of  might  be  removed ;  in  that  hope  he  lived.  Should  that  hope 
be  disappointed — what  then  ?  Only  to  have  loved,  to  have  sac- 
rificed so  much  for  the  sake  of  love,  Angela  said  to  herself, 
thinking  of  something  she  had  read,  was  enough.  Then  she 
laughed  because  this  was  so  silly,  and  the  young  man  deserved 
to  have  some  reward. 

Then,  as  a  first  result  of  this  newly  acquired  knowledge,  the 
point  of  view  seemed  changed.  Quite  naturally,  after  the  first 
surprise  at  finding  so  much  cultivation  in  a  workingmau,  she 
regarded  him,  like  all  the  rest,  from  her  own  elevated  platform. 
In  the  same  way  he,  from  his  own  elevation,  had  been,  in  a  sense, 
looking  down  upon  herself,  though  she  did  not  suspect  the  fact. 
One  might  pause  here,  in  order  to  discuss  how  many  kinds  of 
people  do  consider  themselves  on  a  higher  level  than  their 
neighbors.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  every  man  thinks  himself 
on  so  very  high  a  platform  as  to  entitle  him  to  consider  the 
greater  part  of  mankind  quite  below  him ;  the  fact  that  no  one 
else  thinks  so  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.     Any  one,  however, 


ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  235 

can  understand  hoAv  Angela  would  at  first  regard  Harry,  and 
Harry  the  fair  dressmaker  ;  further,  that,  whatever  acquaintance 
or  intimacy  grew  up  between  them,  the  first  impression  would 
always  remain,  with  the  mental  attitude  of  a  slight  superiority 
in  both  minds,  so  long  as  the  first  impression,  the  first  belief  as 
to  the  real  facts,  was  not  removed.  Now  that  it  was  removed 
on  one  side,  Angela,  for  her  part,  could  no  longer  look  down ; 
there  was  no  superiority  left,  except  in  so  far  as  the  daughter 
of  a  Whitechapel  brewer  might  consider  herself  of  finer  clay 
than  the  son  of  a  sergeant  in  the  army,  also  of  Whitechapel 
origin. 

All  for  love  of  her ! 

The  words  filled  her  heart ;  they  made  her  cheeks  burn  and 
her  eyes  glow.  It  seemed  so  great  and  noble  a  thing  to  do ;  so 
grand  a  sacrifice  to  make. 

She  remembered  her  words  of  contempt  when,  in  a  shame- 
faced, hesitating  way,  as  if  it  were  something  wrong,  he  had 
confessed  that  he  might  go  back  to  a  life  of  idleness.  Why, 
she  might  have  known — she  ought  to  have  known — that  it  was 
not  to  an  ignoble  life  among  ignoble  people  that  he  would  go. 
Yet  she  was  so  stupid. 

What  a  sacrifice  to  make  !     And  all  for  love  of  her ! 

Then  the  flower  of  love  sprang  up  and  immediately  blos- 
somed, and  was  a  beauteous  rose,  ready  for  her  lover  to  gather 
and  place  upon  his  heart.     But  as  yet  she  hardly  knew  it. 

Yet  she  had  known  all  along  that  Harry  loved  her.  He  never 
tried  to  conceal  his  passion.  "AVhy,"  she  said  to  herself,  try- 
ing to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  sudden  change  in  herself, 
"  Why,  it  only  seemed  to  amuse  me,  the  thing  was  absurd ;  and 
I  felt  pity  for  him,  and  a  little  anger  because  he  was  so  pre- 
sumptuous ;  and  I  was  a  little  embarrassed  for  fear  I  had  com- 
promised myself  with  him.  But  it  wasn't  absurd  at  all ;  and  he 
loves  me,  though  I  have  no  fortune.  Oh,  Heaven  !  I  am  a  she- 
Dives,  and  he  doesn't  know  it,  and  he  loves  me  all  the  same." 

She  was  to  tell  him  when  the  "  impediments  "  were  removed. 
Why,  they  were  removed  already.  But  should  she  tell  him  ? 
How  could  she  dare  to  tell  him?  No  girl  likes  to  do  her  own 
wooing ;  she  must  be  courted ;  she  must  be  won.  Besides — 
perhaps — but  here  she  smiled — he  was  Tiot  so  very  much  in 
love  after  all.     Perhaps  he  "^ould  change ;  perhaps  he  would 


236  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

grow  tired  and  go. home  and  desert  her;  perhaps  he  would  fall 
in  love  with  some  one  else.  And  perhaps  Angela,  the  strong- 
minded  student  of  Newnham,  who  would  have  no  love  or  mar- 
riage, or  anything  of  the  kind  in  her  life,  was  no  stronger  than 
any  of  her  sisters  at  the  approach  of  Love  the  XJnconquered. 

She  came  back  the  evening  after  that  dinner.  Her  cheek 
liad  a  new  color  upon  it ;  there  was  a  new  smile  upon  her  lips ; 
there  was  a  new  softness  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  look  so  beautiful  this  evening,"  said  Nelly.  "  Have 
you  been  happy  while  you  were  away  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  something  that  has  made  me  happier,"  said 
Angela.  "  But  you,  dear  Nelly,  have  not.  Why  are  your  cheeks 
so  pale,  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  dark  lines  under  your 
eyes  ?" 

"  It  is  nothing,"  the  girl  replied,  quickly.  "  I  am  quite  well. 
I  am  always  well."  But  she  was  not.  She  was  nervous  and 
preoccupied.     There  was  something  on  her  mind. 

Then  Harry  came,  and  they  began  to  pass  the  evening  in 
the  usual  way,  practising  their  songs,  with  music,  and  the  little 
dance,  without  which  the  girls  could  not  have  gone  away  happy. 
And  Angela,  for  the  first  time,  observed  a  thing  which  struck  a 
chill  to  her  heart  and  robbed  her  of  half  her  joy. 

Why  had  she  never  before  discovered  this  thing  ?  Ah !  ig- 
norant maiden,  despite  the  wisdom  of  the  schools !  Hypatia 
herself  was  not  more  ignorant  than  Angela,  who  knew  not  that 
the  chief  quality  of  the  rose  of  love  in  her  heart  was  to  make 
her  read  the  hearts  of  others.  Armed  with  this  magic  power, 
she  saw  what  she  might  have  seen  long  before. 

In  the  hasty  glance,  the  quick  flush,  the  nervous  trembling  of 
her  hands,  poor  Nelly  betrayed  her  secret.  And  by  those  signs 
the  other  girl,  tvho  loved  the  same  man,  read  that  secret. 

"  Oh,  selfish  woman  !"  said  Angela's  heart.  "  Is  your  happi- 
ness to  be  bought  at  such  a  cost  V 

A  girl  of  lower  nature  might  have  been  jealous.  Angela  was 
not.  It  seemed  to  her  no  sin  in  Nelly  that  she  thought  too 
much  of  such  a  man.  But  she  pitied  her.  Nor  did  she,  as 
some  women  might  have  done,  suspect  that  Harry  had  trifled 
with  her  feelings.  She  knew  that  he  had  not.  She  had  seen 
them  together,  day  after  day ;  she  knew  what  his  bearing  had 
always  been  towards  her,  frank,  courteous,  and  brotherly.     lie 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  237 

called  her  by  her  Christian  name ;  he  liked  her ;  her  presence 
was  pleasant ;  she  was  pretty,  sweet,  and  winning.  No ;  she 
did  not  suspect  him.  And  yet,  what  should  she  say  to  the 
poor  girl  ?  how  comfort  her  ?  how  reconcile  her  to  the  inevita- 
ble sorrow  ? 

"  Nelly,"  she  whispered,  at  parting,  "  if  you  are  unhappy,  my 
child,  you  must  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  I  cannot,"  Nelly  replied.  "  But  oh !  do  not  think  about 
me.  Miss  Kennedy  ;  I  am  not  worth  it." 

Perhaps  she,  too,  had  read  those  same  signs,  and  knew  what 
they  meant. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HARRY     FINDS     LIBERTY. 


Mention  has  been  made  of  the  Stepney  Advanced  Club, 
where  Dick  Coppin  thundered,  and  burning  questions  Avere  dis- 
cussed, and  debates  held  on  high  political  points,  and  where 
more  ideas  were  submitted  and  more  projects  set  forth  in  a  sin- 
gle year  than  in  all  the  rest  of  London  in  two  years.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  Advanced  Club  were  mostly  young  men,  but  there 
was  a  sprinkling  among  them  of  grizzled  beards  who  remem- 
bered '48  and  the  dreams  of  Chartism.  They  had  got  by  this 
time  pretty  well  all  they  clamored  for  in  their  bygone  days,  and 
when  they  thought  of  this,  and  remembered  how  everything  was 
to  go  well  as  soon  as  the  five  points  of  the  Charter  were  car- 
ried, and  how  everything  still  remained  in  the  same  upsydown, 
topsy-turvy,  one-sided,  muddle-headed  perverseness,  just  as  if 
those  points  had  not  been  carried,  they  became  sad.  Neverthe- 
less, the  habit  of  demanding  remained,  because  the  reformer  is 
like  the  daughter  of  the  horse-leech,  and  still  cries  for  more. 
Yet  they  had  less  confidence  than  of  old  in  the  reformer's  great 
nostrum  of  destruction.  The  younger  men,  of  course,  were  quite 
sure,  absolutely  sure,  that  with  a  little  more  upsetting  and  down- 
pulling  the  balance  would  be  set  right  and  a  beautiful  straight 
level  of  universal  happiness  would  be  reached. 

Angela  heard,  from  time  to  time,  of  the  meetings  of  this  club. 
Harry  told  her  how  his  cousin  Dick  had  surpassed  himself,  how 


238  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

they  were  going  to  abolish  crown,  Church,  and  House  of  Lords, 
with  landlordism,  lawyers,  established  armies,  pauperdom,  Dives- 
dom,  taxes,  and  all  kinds  of  things  which  the  hateful  Tory  or 
that  pitiful  creature  the  moderate  Liberal  considers  necessary 
for  the  welfare  of  the  state.  And  she  knew  that  Harry  went 
there  and  spoke  occasionally,  and  that  he  had  made  in  a  quiet 
way  some  sort  of  mark  among  the  members.  One  evening, 
about  this  time,  she  met  Dick  Coppin  returning  from  work,  in 
which,  unlike  his  cousin,  he  did  not  disdain  the  apron  nor  the 
box  of  tools. 

"  There's  going  to  be  a  debate  on  Sunday,"  he  said,  half  shy- 
ly and  half  boastfully,  "at  the  club.  It's  on  the  abolition  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  I  am  going  to  speak,  and  if  you  like  to 
come,  you  and  one  or  two  of  the  girls,  I'll  pass  you  in,  and  you 
will  hear  a  thing  or  two  that  will  open  your  eyes." 

"  That  is  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  Coppin.  I  always  like  to 
have  my  eyes  opened.     Will  there  be  many  speakers  ?" 

"  There  will  be  me,"  he  replied,  with  simple  grandeur.  "  I 
don't  think,  when  I've  said  my  say,  that  there  Avill  remain  much 
more  to  be  said  by  anybody.  Cousin  Harry  may  get  up,  per- 
haps " — his  face  assumed  a  little  uneasiness — "  but  no,  I  don't 
think  he  will  find  any  holes  in  me.  I've  got  the  facts  ;  I've  gone 
to  the  right  quarter  to  get  'em.     No  ;  he  can't  deny  my  facts." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Coppin,  perhaps  we  will  go  to  hear  you.  But 
be  very  sure  about  your  facts." 

Angela  said  nothing  about  the  proposed  debate,  or  her  inten- 
tion of  being  present,  but  she  learned  from  Harry  that  there 
really  was  going  to  be  a  field-night,  and  that  Dick  Coppin  was 
expected  to  come  out  in  more  than  his  usual  strength.  The  in- 
formant said  nothing  about  his  own  intentions.  Indeed,  he  had 
none,  but  he  was  falling  into  the  habit  of  spending  an  hour  or 
two  at  the  club  on  Sunday  evening  before  finishing  off  with  the 
girls ;  sometimes  he  spoke,  but  oftener  he  listened  and  came 
away  silent  and  reflective.  The  Advanced  Club  offered  ample 
material  for  one  who  knows  how  to  reflect.  Humanity  is  a  grand 
subject,  and,  in  fact,  is  the  only  subject  left  for  an  epic  poem. 
But  perhaps  the  action  would  drag.  Here,  Harry  saw,  was  a 
body  of  men,  old  and  young,  all  firmly  persuaded  that  things 
were  wrong,  that  things  might  be  made  better,  yet  casting  about 
blindly  for  a  remedy  and  crying  aloud  for  a  leader.     And  those 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  239 

who  desired  to  lead  them  had  nothing  to  offer  but  a  stone  in- 
stead of  bread.  The  fact  that  this  young  man  did  Hsten  and  re- 
flect shows  how  greatly  he  was  changed  from  him  whom  we  first 
met  in  the  prologue.  Regular  hours,  simple  living,  reasonably 
hard  work,  strengthened  his  nerves  for  anything ;  he  was  hard- 
er ;  the  men  with  whom  he  talked  were  rougher ;  and  the  old 
carelessness  was  gone.  He  kept  his  gayety  of  heart,  yet  it  was 
sobered ;  he  felt  responsible ;  he  knew  so  much  more  than  the 
men  around  him  that  he  felt  a  consuming  desire  to  set  them 
right,  but  could  not,  for  he  was  tongue-tied ;  he  had  not  yet 
found  liberty,  as  the  old  preachers  used  to  say ;  when  he  felt 
most  strongly  that  the  speakers  were  on  a  false  tack,  he  spoke 
most  feebly ;  he  wanted  to  be  a  prophet,  and  there  were  only 
confused  ideas,  blurred  perceptions,  to  work  upon.  Now,  the 
first  step  'towards  being  a  prophet — which  is  a  most  laudable 
ambition — is  to  see  quite  clearly  one's  self  and  to  understand 
what  one  means.  He  could  set  a  man  right  as  to  facts ;  he 
could  shut  up  a  speaker  and  make  the  club  laugh,  but  he  could 
not  move  them.  As  yet  Harry  was  only  in  the  position  occu- 
pied during  a  long  life  by  the  late  prophet  of  Chelsea,  inas- 
much as  he  distinctly  perceived  the  folly  of  his  neighbors,  but 
could  teach  no  way  of  wisdom.  This  is  a  form  of  prophetical 
utterance  which  has  never  possessed  much  weight  with  the  peo- 
ple ;  they  want  direct  teaching,  and  a  leader  who  knows  Avhat 
he  means  and  whither  he  would  conduct  them,  if  it  be  only  in 
the  direction  of  one  of  those  poor  old  worn-out  panaceas  once 
warranted  to  guarantee  universal  happiness,  like  the  ballot-box. 
Not  that  Harry  grew  miserable  over  his  failure  to  prophesy,  not 
at  all ;  he  only  wished  for  words  of  wisdom  and  power,  and  sat 
meanwhile  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  hat  pulled  over 
his  eyes,  like  a  minister  in  the  House  of  Commons,  while  the 
members  of  the  club  poured  forth  their  frothy  declamation  each 
louder  than  his  predecessor,  trying  to  catch  the  applause  of  an 
assembly  which  generally  shouted  for  the  loudest.  The  times 
might  be  out  of  joint,  but  Harry  felt  no  certain  inspiration  as  to 
the  way  of  setting  them  right :  if  a  thing  came  to  him,  he  would 
say  it ;  if  not,  he  would  wait.  The  great  secret  about  waiting  is 
that  while  a  man  waits  he  thinks,  and  if  he  thinks  in  solitude 
and  waits  long  enough,  letting  words  lie  in  his  brain  and  listen- 
ing to  ideas  which  come  upon  him,  sometimes  singly  and  slow- 


240  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

ly,  sometimes  in  crowds  like  the  fancies  of  a  wakeful  night, 
there  presents  itself  at  last  an  idea  which  seizes  upon  him  and 
holds  him  captive,  and  works  itself  out  in  his  brain  while  he 
mechanically  goes  on  with  the  work,  the  rest,  the  toil,  and  the 
pleasure  of  his  daily  life.  Solitary  work  is  favorable  to  medita- 
tion ;  therefore,  while  Harry  was  shaping  things  at  his  lathe,  un- 
disturbed by  any  one,  his  brain  was  at  work.  And  a  thought 
came  to  him  which  lay  there  dimly  perceived  at  first,  but  grow- 
ing larger  daily  till  it  filled  his  head  and  drew  unto  itself  all  his 
other  thoughts,  so  that  everything  he  saw,  or  read,  or  heard,  or 
meditated  upon  became  like  a  rill  or  rivulet  which  goes  to 
swell  a  great  river.  And  it  was  this  thought,  grown  into  shape 
at  last,  which  he  proclaimed  to  the  members  of  the  Advanced 
Club  on  the  night  of  their  great  debate. 

It  was  not  a  large  hall,  but  it  was  perfectly  filled  with  people ; 
chiefly  they  were  men  and  young  men,  but  among  them  were  a 
good  many  women  and  girls.  Does  it  ever  occur  to  the  "  better 
class  "  that  the  work  of  woman's  emancipation  is  advancing  in 
certain  circles  with  rapid  strides  ?  That  is  so,  nevertheless ;  and 
large,  if  not  pleasant  results  may  be  expected  in  a  few  years 
therefrom.  It  must  be  remembered  that  for  the  most  part  they 
start  perfectly  free  from  any  trammels  of  religion.  It  has  been 
stated  that  the  basis  of  all  their  philosophy  is,  and  always  will 
be,  the  axiom  that  every  one  must  get  as  much  as  possible  for 
herself  out  of  the  rather  limited  ration  of  pleasure  supplied  to 
humanity.  Whether  that  is  true  I  know  not.  Angela  watched 
these  women  with  curiosity ;  they  were  mostly  young  and  some 
of  them  were  pretty,  and  there  was  absolutely  nothing  to  show 
that  they  thought  differently  from  any  other  women.  Some  of 
them  had  brought  their  work ;  some  were  talking ;  they  were  not 
excited  by  the  prospect  of  the  coming  debate  ;  they  expected,  in 
fact,  nothing  more  than  they  had  already  heard  over  and  over 
again.  There  was  too  much  gas ;  the  atmosphere  was  already 
heavy,  and  the  walls  already  shiny,  before  the  meeting  began. 
On  the  platform  was  a  chair  for  the  chairman,  with  a  table  and 
a  hammer  and  a  decanter  of  water  and  a  glass.  Angela  sat  far 
back  against  the  door,  with  Captain  Sorensen  and  Nelly.  She 
was  silent,  wondering  at  these  people  and  why  they  should 
trouble  themselves  about  the  House  of  Lords,  and  whether  they 
never  felt  any  desire  at  all  for  the  religion  which  brings  joy  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  241 

happiness  to  so  many  suffering  lives.  Presently  she  saw  Hany 
walk  slowly  up  the  middle  aisle  and  take  a  place,  for  there  was 
no  chair,  on  the  steps  which  led  to  the  platform.  She  was  so  far 
back  that  he  could  not  see  her,  for  which  she  afterwards  was  glad. 

The  chairman,  a  man  stricken  in  years,  with  gray  hair  and  a 
grizzled  beard,  and  one  of  those  ex-Chartists  of  whom  we  have 
spoken,  took  the  chair,  hammered  the  table,  and  opened  the  de- 
bate. He  was  a  man  of  great  reputation,  having  been  all  his 
life  an  Irreconcilable,  and  he  was  suspected  of  being  a  Socialist 
and  was  certainly  a  Red  Republican.  lie  began  in  the  usual 
way  by  stating  as  an  axiom  that  the  People  can  do  no  wrong ; 
that  to  intrust  the  destinies  of  a  nation  to  the  People  is  to  insure 
its  greatness  ;  that  Manhood  is  the  only  rank : — and  so  forth,  all 
in  capital  letters  with  notes  of  admiration.  The  words  were 
strong,  but  they  produced  no  effect,  because  the  speech  had 
been  made  before  a  great  many  times,  and  the  people  knew  it 
by  heart.  Therefore,  though  it  was  the  right  thing  to  say,  and 
the  thing  expected  of  a  chairman,  nobody  paid  any  attention. 

The  discussion,  which  was  all  one-sided,  then  began.  Two 
or  three  young  men  rose  one  after  the  other ;  they  were  listened 
to  with  the  indulgence  which  is  always  accorded  to  beginners. 
None  of  them  made  a  point,  or  said  a  good  thing,  or  went  out- 
side the  crude  theories  of  untaught,  if  generous,  youth ;  and 
their  ignorance  was  such  as  to  make  Angela  almost  weep. 

Then  Dick  Coppin  mounted  the  platform,  and  advanced  amid 
the  plaudits  of  the  expectant  audience.  He  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  coarse  black  hair,  straightened  himself  up  to  his 
full  height  of  five  feet  six,  drank  a  little  water,  and  then,  stand- 
ing beside  the  chairman's  table,  with  his  right  hand  resting 
upon  it,  when  he  was  not  waving  it  about,  he  began,  slowly  at 
first,  but  afterwards  with  fluent  speech  and  strong  words  and  a 
ringing  voice,  the  harangue  which  he  had  so  carefully  prepared. 
Of  course  he  condemned  the  House  of  Lords  tooth  and  nail ;  it 
must  be  destroyed  root  and  branch ;  it  was  a  standing  insult  to 
the  common-sense  of  the  nation ;  it  was  an  effete  and  worn-out 
institution,  against  which  the  enlightenment  of  the  age  cried 
out  aloud ;  it  was  an  obstruction  to  Progress  ;  it  was  a  menace 
to  the  People  ;  it  was  a  thing  of  the  Past ;  it  was  an  enemy  of 
the  workingman ;  it  was  a  tyrant  who  had  the  will  but  not  the 
power  to  tyrannize  any  longer ;  it  was  a  toothless  old  wolf  who 
11 


242  ALL    S0KT8    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

could  bark  but  could  not  bite.  Those  free  and  enlightened  men 
sitting  before  him,  members  of  the  Advanced  Club,  had  pro- 
nounced its  doom — therefore  it  must  go.  The  time  had  come 
when  the  nation  would  endure  no  longer  to  have  a  privileged 
class,  and  would  be  mocked  no  more  by  the  ridiculous  spectacle 
of  hereditary  legislators. 

He  pursued  this  topic  with  great  freedom  of  language  and  a 
great  natural  eloquence  of  a  rough  and  uncultivated  kind ;  his 
hearers,  getting  gradually  warmed,  interrupted  him  by  those 
plaudits  which  go  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  born  orator,  and 
stir  him  to  his  strongest  and  his  best. 

Then  he  changed  his  line  and  attempted  to  show  that  the 
families  which  compose  the  Upper  House  are  themselves,  as 
well  as  their  institution,  worn  out,  used  up,  and  lost  to  the  vigor 
which  first  pushed  them  to  the  front.  Where  were  now  their 
fighting-men?  he  asked.  Where  were  their  orators?  Which 
among  them  all  was  of  any  real  importance  to  his  party? 
Which  of  them  had  in  modern  times  done  anything,  proposed 
anything,  or  thought  of  anything  for  the  advancement  of  knowl- 
edge or  the  good  of  the  people  ?  Not  one  able  man,  he  said, 
among  them :  luxury  had  ruined  and  corrupted  all ;  their  blood 
was  poisoned ;  they  could  drink  and  eat ;  they  could  practise 
other  luxurious  habits,  which  he  enumerated  with  fidelity,  lest 
there  should  be  any  mistake  about  the  matter ;  and  then  they 
could  go  to  the  House,  reeling  into  it  drunk  with  wine,  and  op- 
pose the  will  of  the  people. 

Then  he  turned  from  generalities  to  particulars,  and  enter- 
tained his  audience  with  anecdotes  gleaned.  Heaven  knows  how, 
from  the  private  histories  of  many  noble  families,  tending  to 
show  the  corruption  into  which  the  British  aristocracy  had  fall- 
en. These  anecdotes  were  received  with  that  keenness  which 
always  awaits  stories  which  show  how  wicked  other  people  are, 
and  what  are  the  newest  fashions  and  hitherto  unknown  forms 
of  vice.  Angela  marvelled,  on  her  part,  to  hear  "  scandal  about 
Queen  Elizabeth  "  at  Stepney. 

Then,  after  an  impeachment  which  lasted  for  half  an  hour,  he 
thundered  forth  an  appeal — not  at  all  novel  to  his  hearers,  yet 
still  effective,  because  his  voice  was  like  a  trumpet — to  the  men 
before  him  to  rise  in  their  millions,  their  majesty,  and  their 
might,  and  to  tear  the  accursed  thing  down. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  243 

He  sat  down  at  last,  wiping  his  forehead,  exhausted  but  tri- 
umphant. Never  before  had  he  so  completely  carried  his  audi- 
ence with  him ;  never  before  had  he  obtained  such  flow  of  lan- 
guage, and  such  mastery  over  his  voice ;  never  before  had  he 
realized  so  fully  that  he  was,  he  himself,  an  orator  inferior  to 
none.  As  he  sat  down,  while  the  men  clapped  their  hands  and 
cheered,  a  vision  of  greatness  passed  before  his  mind.  He  would 
be  the  Leader  of  the  People  ;  they  should  look  to  him  as  they 
had  never  yet  looked  to  any  man  for  guidance.  And  he  would 
lead  them.  Whither  ?  But  this,  in  the  dream  of  the  moment, 
mattered  nothing. 

A  cold  chill  came  over  him  as  he  saw  his  cousin  Harry  leap 
lightly  to  the  platform  and  take  his  place  at  the  table.  For  he 
foresaw  trouble  ;  and  all  the  more  because  those  of  the  audience 
who  knew  Gentleman  Jack  laughed  in  expectation  of  that  trou- 
ble. Fickle  and  fleeting  is  the  breath  of  popular  favor ;  only  a 
moment  before,  and  they  were  cheering  him  to  the  skies ;  now 
they  laughed  because  they  hoped  that  he  was  to  be  made  to  look 
a  fool.  But  the  orator  took  heart,  considering  that  his  facts 
were  undeniable. 

When  the  tumult  had  subsided,  Harry,  to  everybody's  aston- 
ishment, laid  his  hand  upon  his  cousin's  shoulder — a  gesture  of 
approbation — and  looked  round  the  room  and  said  quietly,  bat 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  all, 

"  My  cousin,  Dick  Coppin,  can  talk.  That  was  a  very  good 
speech  of  his,  wasn't  it  ?" 

Voices  were  heard  asking  if  he  could  better  it. 

"  No,"  Harry  replied,  "  I  can't.  I  wish  I  could."  He  took 
his  place  beside  the  table,  and  gazed  for  a  few  moments  at  the 
faces  below  him.  Angela  observed  that  his  face  was  pale,  though 
the  carriage  of  his  head  was  brave.  "  I  wish,"  he  repeated, 
"  that  I  could.  Because,  after  all  these  fireworks  it  is  such  a 
tame  thing  just  to  tell  you  that  there  wasn't  a  word  of  sense  in 
the  whole  speech." 

Here  there  were  signs  of  wrath,  but  the  general  feeling  was  to 
let  the  speaker  have  his  say. 

"  Do  you  suppose — any  of  you — that  Dick  believes  that  the 
lords  go  rolling  drunk  to  the  House  ?  Of  course  he  doesn't. 
Do  you  suppose  that  he  thinks  you  such  fools  as  to  believe  it  ? 
Of  course  he  doesn't.     But  then,  you  see,  Dick  must  have  his 


244  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

fireworks.  And  it  was  a  first-rate  speech.  Do  you  suppose  lie 
believes  that  the  lords  are  a  worn-out  lot  ?  Not  he.  He  knows 
better.  And  if  any  of  you  feel  inclined  to  think  so,  go  and  look 
at  them.  You  will  find  them  as  well  set-up  as  most,  and  better. 
You  can  hear  some  of  them  in  the  House  of  Commons,  where 
you  send  them,  you  electors.  Wherever  there  are  Englishmen 
working,  fighting,  or  sporting,  there  are  some  of  those  families 
among  them.  As  for  their  corruption,  that's  fireworks  too. 
Dick  has  told  you  some  beautiful  stories  which  he  challenged 
anybody  to  dispute.  I  dare  say  they  are  all  true.  What  he 
forgot  to  tell  you  is  that  he  has  picked  out  these  stories  from 
the  last  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  expects  you  to  believe  that 
they  all  happened  yesterday.  Shall  we  charge  you  members  of 
the  club  with  all  the  crimes  of  the  Whitechapel  Eoad  for  a  hun- 
dred years  ?  If  you  want  to  upset  the  House  of  Lords,  go  and 
do  it.  But  don't  do  it  with  lies  on  your  lips,  and  on  false  pre- 
tences. You  know  how  virtuous  and  moral  you  are  yourselves. 
Then  just  remember  that  the  members  of  the  House  of  Lords 
are  about  as  moral  as  you  are,  or  rather  better.  Abolish  the 
House  of  Lords,  if  you  like.  How  much  better  will  you  be 
when  it  is  gone?  You  can  go  on  abolishing.  There  is  the 
Church.  Get  it  disestablished.  Think  how  much  better  you 
will  all  be  when  the  churches  are  pulled  down.  Yet  you  couldn't 
stay  away  any  more  than  you  do.  You  want  the  land  laws  re- 
formed. Get  them  reformed,  and  think  how  much  land  you  will 
get  for  yourselves  out  of  that  reform. 

"  Dick  Coppin  says  you  have  got  the  power.  So  you  have. 
He  says  the  last  Reform  Bill  gave  it  to  you.  There  he  makes 
a  mistake.  You  have  always  had  the  power.  You  have  always 
had  all  the  power  there  is.  It  is  yours,  because  you  are  the 
people,  and  what  the  people  want  they  will  have.  Your  power 
is  your  birthright.  You  are  an  irresistible  giant  who  has  only 
to  roar  in  order  to  get  what  he  wants. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  roar  ?  Because  you  don't  know  what 
you  do  want.  Because  your  leaders  don't  know  any  more  than 
yourselves ;  because  they  go  bawling  for  things  which  will  do 
you  no  good,  and  they  don't  know  what  it  is  you  do  want. 

"  You  think  that  by  making  yourselves  into  clubs  and  calling 
yourselves  Radicals,  you  are  getting  forward.  You  think  that 
by  listening  to  a  chap  like  my  cousin  Dick,  who's  a  clever  fel- 


ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  245 

low  and  a  devil  for  fireworks,  you  somehow  improve  your  own 
condition.  Did  you  ever  ask  yourselves  what  difference  the  form 
of  government  makes  ?  I  have  been  in  America,  where,  if  any- 
where, the  people  have  it  their  own  way.  Do  you  think  work 
is  more  plentiful,  wages  better,  hours  shorter,  things  cheaper  in 
a  republic  !  Do  you  think  the  heels  of  your  boots  last  any  long- 
er ?  If  you  do,  think  so  no  longer.  Whether  the  House  of 
Lords,  or  the  Church,  or  the  land  laws  stand  or  fall,  that,  my 
friends,  makes  not  the  difference  of  a  penny-piece  to  any  single 
man  among  us.  You  who  agitate  for  their  destruction  are  gen- 
erously giving  your  time  and  trouble  for  things  which  help  no 
man.     And  yet  there  are  so  many  things  that  can  help  us. 

"  It  comes  of  your  cursed  ignorance  " — Harry  was  warming 
up — "  I  say,  your  cursed  ignorance.  You  know  nothing — you 
understand  nothing — of  your  own  country.  You  do  not  know 
how  its  institutions  have  grown  up;  why  it  is  so  prosperous; 
why  changes,  when  they  have  to  be  made,  should  be  made  slow- 
ly, and  not  before  they  are  necessary ;  nor  how  you  yourselves 
may  climb  up,  if  you  will,  into  a  life  above  you,  much  happier, 
much  more  pleasant.  You  do  not  respect  the  old  institutions, 
because  you  don't  know  them ;  you  desire  new  things  because 
you  don't  understand  the  old.  Go — learn — make  your  orators 
learn  and  make  them  teach  you.  And  then  send  them  to  the 
House  of  Commons  to  represent  you. 

"  You  think  that  governments  can  do  everything  for  you. 
You  FOOLS  !  Has  any  government  ever  done  anything  for  you  ? 
Has  it  raised  your  wages,  has  it  shortened  your  hours  ?  Can  it 
protect  you  against  rogues  and  adulterators  ?  Will  it  ever  try  to 
better  your  condition  ?  Never  :  never :  never.  Because  it  can- 
not. Does  any  government  ask  what  you  want,  what  you  ought 
to  want.     No.     Can  it  give  you  what  you  want  ?     No. 

"  Listen.  You  want  clean  streets  and  houses  in  which  decent 
folk  can  live.  The  government  has  appointed  sanitary  officers. 
Yet,  look  about  you :  put  your  heads  in  the  courts  of  White- 
chapel — what  has  the  sanitary  officer  done  ?  You  want  strong 
and  well-built  houses.  There  are  government  inspectors.  Yet, 
look  at  the  lath-and-plaster  houses  that  a  child  could  kick  over. 
You  want  honest  food.  All  that  you  eat  and  drink  is  adulter- 
ated.    How  does  the  government  help  you  there  ? 

"  You  have  the  power — all  the  power  there  is ;  you  cannot 


246  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

use  it  because  you  don't  know  how.  You  expect  the  govern- 
ment to  use  your  power — to  do  your  work.  My  friends,  I  will 
tell  you  the  secret — whatever  you  want  done,  you  must  do  for 
yourselves — no  one  else  will  do  it  for  you.  You  must  agree  that 
such  and  such  shall  be  done,  and  then,  be  very  sure,  you  will  get 
it  done. 

"  In  politics  you  are  used  as  the  counters  of  a  game :  each 
side  plays  with  you — not  for  you,  mind.  You  get  nothing, 
whichever  side  is  in :  you  are  the  pawns. 

"  It  is  something,  perhaps,  to  take  even  so  much  part  in  the 
game ;  but  as  you  get  nothing  but  the  honor,  I  am  rather  sur- 
prised at  your  going  on  with  it.  And,  if  I  might  advise,  it 
would  be  that  we  give  that  game  over  and  play  one  by  ourselves 
in  which  there  really  is  something  to  be  got. 

"  "What  we  must  play  for  is  what  we  want.  What  we  have 
got  to  do  is  to  remember  that  when  we  say  we  will  have  a  thing, 
nobody  can  resist  us.  Have  it  we  must,  because  we  are  the 
masters. 

"  Now,  then,  what  do  we  want  ?" 

Harry  was  quite  serious  by  this  time,  and  so  were  the  faces 
of  those  who  listened,  though  there  was  a  little  angry  doubt  on 
some  of  them.  No  one  replied  to  the  question.  Some  of  the 
younger  men  looked  as  if  they  might  perhaps  have  answered  in 
the  words  of  the  sailor,  "  More  rum."  But  they  refrained,  and 
preserved  silence. 

"  What  do  we  want  ?  Has  any  one  of  you  ever  considered 
what  you  do  want  ?  Let  me  tell  you  a  few  things — I  can't  think 
of  many,  but  I  know  a  few  that  you  ought  to  put  first. 

"  You  want  your  own  local  government.  What  every  little 
country  town  has,  you  have  not.  You  want  to  elect  your  own 
aldermen,  mayors,  guardians,  and  school-boards,  yourselves — by 
yourselves.  Get  that  first,  and  abolish  the  House  of  Lords  after- 
wards. 

"There  is  your  food.  You  ought  to  get  your  beef  from 
America  at  threepence  a  pound,  and  you  are  contented  to  give 
a  shilling ;  you  ought  to  have  your  fish  at  twopence  a  pound, 
and  you  pay  whatever  they  choose  to  charge  you ;  you  drink 
bad  beer,  bad  spirits,  bad  tea,  bad  cocoa,  bad  coffee — because 
you  don't  know  that  the  things  are  bad  and  dear,  and  be- 
cause you  don't  understand  that  you  have  only  got  to  resolve 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN.  247 

in  order  to  get  all  this  changed.  It  is,  you  see,  your  cursed 
ignorance. 

"  There  are  your  houses.  The  rich  people,  having  more 
knowledge  than  you,  and  more  determination,  have  found  out 
how  to  build  houses  so  as  to  prevent  fevers.  You  live  in  houses 
built  to  catch  fever — fever-traps.  When  you  find  out  what  you 
want,  you  will  refuse  to  live  in  such  houses ;  you  will  refuse  to 
let  anybody  live  in  such  houses ;  you  will  come  out  of  them ; 
you  will  have  them  pulled  down.  When  it  comes  to  building 
up  better  houses,  you  will  remember  that  paid  inspectors  are 
squared  by  the  builders,  so  that  the  cement  is  mud  and  sand, 
and  the  bricks  are  crumbling  clay,  and  the  walls  crack,  and  the 
floors  are  shaky.     Therefore,  you  will  be  your  own  inspectors. 

"  The  government  makes  us  send  our  children  to  board 
schools  to  be  educated.  That  would  be  very  noble  of  the  gov- 
ernment if  they  had  first  considered,  which  nobody  has,  what 
sort  of  education  a  workingman  wants.  As  yet  they  have  only 
got  as  far  as  spelling.  When  a  boy  can  spell,  they  think  he  is 
educated.  Once  it  was  all  kings  of  Israel;  now  it  is  all  spell- 
ing. Is  that  what  you  want  ?  Do  you  think  it  matters  how  you 
spell,  so  that  you  know  ?  Are  you  contented  that  your  children 
shall  know  nothing  about  this  great  country,  nothing  of  its 
wealth  and  people,  nothing  of  their  duties  as  citizens,  nothing 
of  their  own  trade  ?  Shall  they  not  be  taught  that  theirs  is  the 
power,  that  they  can  do  what  they  like  and  have  what  they  like 
— if  they  like  ?  Do  you  resolve  that  the  education  of  your  chil- 
dren shall  be  real,  and  it  will  become  real.  But  don't  look  to 
government  to  do  it,  or  it  will  continue  to  be  spelling.  Find 
out  the  thing  that  you  want,  and  send  your  own  men  to  the 
school-boards  to  get  that  thing  done. 

Another  thing  that  you  want  is  pleasure.  Men  can't  do  with- 
out it.  Can  government  give  you  that?  They  can  shut  the 
public-houses  at  twelve.  What  more  can  they  do  ?  But  you — 
you  do  not  know  how  to  enjoy  yourselves.  You  don't  know 
what  to  do.  You  can't  play  music,  nor  sing,  nor  paint,  nor 
dance ;  you  can  do  nothing.  You  get  no  pleasure  out  of  life, 
and  you  won't  get  it  even  by  abolishing  everything. 

"  Take  that  simple  question  of  a  holiday.  We  take  ours,  like 
the  fools  we  are,  all  in  droves,  by  thousands  and  millions,  on 
bank  holidays.  Why  do  we  do  that  ?  Why  do  we  not  insist 
R 


248  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

on  having  our  holidays  at  different  times  in  the  year,  without 
these  monstrous  crowds  which  render  enjoyment  impossible? 
And  why  do  we  not  demand — what  is  granted  to  every  little 
.  quill-driving  clerk  in  the  city — our  fortnight  every  year,  with 
nothing  to  do  and  drmoingfull  pay  ?  That  is  one  of  your  wants, 
and  you  don't  know  it.  The  reform  of  the  Land  Laws,  my 
brothers,  will  not  bring  you  one  inch  nearer  getting  this  want." 

At  this  point  the  chairman  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 
Perhaps  he  had  never  before  realized  how  all  his  life  he  had  neg- 
lected the  substance  and  swallowed  the  shadow.  The  old  man 
sat  listening  patiently  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  Never  be- 
fore had  any  workman,  any  one  of  his  own  class,  spoken  like 
this  young  fellow,  who  talked  and  looked  like  a  swell,  though 
they  knew  him  for  what  he  was.  Pleasure  !  Yes :  he  had  nev- 
er considered  that  life  might  have  its  delights.  Yet,  what  de- 
lights ? 

"There  is  another  thing,  and  the  blackest  of  all."  Harry 
paused  a  moment.  But  the  men  were  listening,  and  now  in 
earnest. 

"  I  mean  the  treatment  of  your  girls,  your  sisters  and  your 
daughters.  Men  !  You  have  combimed  together  and  made  your 
Unions  for  yourselves.  You  have  forced  upon  your  employers 
terms  which  nothing  but  combination  would  have  compelled 
them  to  accept ;  you  are  paid  twice  v/hat  you  received  twenty 
years  ago ;  you  go  in  broadcloth ;  you  are  well  fed ;  you  have 
money  in  your  pocket.    But  you  have  clean  forgotten  the  girls. 

"  Think  of  the  girls. 

"  They  have  no  protection  but  a  government  act,  forbidding 
more  than  ten  hours'  work.  Who  cares  for  a  government  act  ? 
It  is  defied  daily ;  those  who  frame  these  acts  know  very  well 
that  they  are  powerless  to  maintain  them.  Because,  my  friends, 
the  power  is  with  the  people — you.  If  you  resolve  that  an  act 
shall  become  a  law,  you  make  it  so.  Everything,  in  the  end,  is 
by  the  people  and  through  the  people. 

"  You  have  done  nothing  for  your  girls.  You  leave  them  to 
the  mercies  of  employers  who  have  got  to  cut  down  expenses 
to  the  last  farthing.  They  are  paid  starvation  wages ;  they  are 
kept  in  unwholesome  rooms ;  they  are  bound  to  the  longest 
hours ;  they  are  oppressed  with  fines.  The  girls  grow  up  nar- 
row-chested, stooping,  consumptive.     They  are  used  up  whole- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  249 

sale.  And  what  do  you  do  for  them  ?  Nothing.  There  are 
girls  and  women  in  this  hall.  Can  any  one  of  them  here  get  up 
and  say  that  the  workingmen  have  raised  a  finger  for  them  ? 

"  The  worst  charge  any  man  can  bring  against  you  is  that  you 
care  nothing  for  your  girls. 

"  Why,  it  is  only  the  other  day  that  a  Dressmakers'  Associa- 
tion has  been  opened  among  you.  You  all  know  where  it  is ; 
you  all  know  what  it  tries  to  do  for  the  girls ;  yet,  what  single 
man  among  you  has  ever  had  the  pluck  to  stand  up  for  his  sis- 
ters who  are  working  in  it  ?" 

Then  Harry  stepped  right  to  the  edge  of  the  platform  and 
spread  out  his  hands,  changing  his  voice. 

"  You  are  good  fellows,"  he  said,  "  and  you've  given  me  fair 
play.  There  isn't  a  country  in  the  world  except  England  where 
I  could  have  had  this  fair  play.  Don't  misunderstand  me.  I  tell 
you,  and  I  don't  think  you  knew  it  before,  that  the  time  has 
come  when  the  people  should  leave  off  caring  much  about  the 
government  or  expecting  any  good  thing  for  themselves  from 
any  government,  because  it  can't  be  done  in  that  way.  You 
must  find  out  for  yourselves  what  you  want,  and  then  you  must 
have  that  done.  You  must  combine  for  these  things  as  you  did 
for  wages,  and  you  will  get  them.  And  if  you  spend  half  the 
energy  in  working  for  yourselves  that  you  have  spent  in  working 
for  things  that  do  you  no  good,  you  will  be  happy  indeed. 

"  Your  politics,  I  say  again,  will  do  nothing  for  you.  Do  you 
hear — nothing  at  all.  But  yours  is  the  power.  Let  us  repeat 
it  again  and  again :  all  the  power  is  yours.  Try  what  govern- 
ment can  do.  Send  Dick  Coppin  into  Parliament — he's  a  clever 
chap — and  tell  him  to  do  what  he  can  for  you.  He  will  do  noth- 
ing. Therefore,  work  for  yourselves  and  by  yourselves.  Make 
out  what  you  want,  and  resolve  to  have  it.  Nobody  can  prevent 
you.  The  world  is  yours  to  do  what  you  like  with.  Here  in 
England,  as  in  America,  the  workingman  is  master,  provided 
the  workingman  knows  what  he  wants.  The  first  thing  you 
want,  I  reckon,  is  good  lodging ;  the  second  is  good  food ;  the 
third  is  good  drink — good  unadulterated  beer,  and  plenty  of  it ; 
tiie  fourth  is  good  and  sensible  education ;  the  fifth  is  holiday 
and  pleasure ;  and  the  last,  which  is  also  the  first,  is  justice  for 
your  girls.  But  don't  be  fools.  I  have  been  among  you  in  this 
club  a  good  many  times.  It  goes  to  my  heart,  every  time  I 
11* 


250  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

come,  to  see  so  many  clever  men  and  able  men  wasting  their 
time  over  grievances  which  don't  hurt  them,  when  they  are  sur- 
rounded by  a  hundred  grievances  which  they  have  only  to  per- 
ceive in  order  to  sweep  them  away.  1  am  a  Radical,  like  your- 
selves, but  I  am  a  Social  Radical.  As  for  your  political  jaw, 
it  plays  the  game  of  those  who  use  you :  politics  is  a  game  of 
lying  accusations  and  impossible  promises  ;  the  accusations  make 
you  angry,  the  promises  make  you  hopeful.  But  you  get  noth- 
ing in  the  long  run,  and  you  never  will ;  because,  promise  what 
they  may,  it  is  not  laws  or  measures  that  will  improve  our  lot — 
it  is  by  our  own  resolution  that  it  shall  be  improved.  Hold  out 
your  hands  and  take  the  things  that  are  offered  you.  Everything 
is  yours  if  you  like  to  have  it.  You  are  in  a  beautiful  garden 
filled  with  fruits,  if  you  care  to  pick  them,  but  you  do  not ;  you 
lie  grubbing  in  the  mud  and  crying  out  for  what  will  do  you  no 
good.  Voices  are  calling  to  you :  they  offer  you  such  a  life  as 
was  never  yet  conceived  by  the  lordliest  House  of  Lords,  a  life 
full  of  work  and  full  of  pleasure :  but  you  don't  hear ;  you  are 
deaf ;  you  are  blind ;  you  are  ignorant."  He  stopped — a  hoarse 
shout  greeted  his  peroration ;  Harry  wondered  for  a  moment  if 
this  was  applause  or  disapproval.  It  was  the  former.  Then  one 
man  rose  and  spoke. 

"  Damn  him  1"  he  cried.  Yet  the  phrase  was  used  in  no  con- 
demnatory spirit — as  when  a  mother  addresses  her  boy  as  a 
naughty  little  rogue-pogue.  "  Damn  him  !  He  shall  be  our  next 
member." 

"  No,"  said  Harry,  clapping  his  cousin  on  the  shoulder,  *'  here 
is  your  next  member.  Dick  Coppin  is  your  boy.  He  is  clever ; 
he  is  ambitious ;  tell  him  what  you  want,  and  he'll  get  it  for  you 
if  any  one  can.  But — oh,  men — find  out  what  you  want :  and 
have  it.  Yours — yours — yours — is  the  power — you  are  the  mas- 
ters of  the  world.  Leave  the  humbug  of  Radicalism  and  Liber- 
alism and  Toryism.  Let  dead  politics  bury  their  dead.  Learn 
to  look  after  your  own  interests.  You  are  the  kings  and  lords 
of  humanity ;  the  old  kings  and  lords  are  no  more ;  they  are 
swept  away ;  they  are  only  shadows  of  the  past.  With  you  are 
the  sceptre  and  the  crown  ;  you  sit  upon  the  throne ;  and  when 
you  know  how  to  reign,  you  shall  reign  as  never  yet  king  was 
known  to  reign.     But  first  find  out  what  you  loanty 

He  lightly  leaped  from  the  platform,  and  stepped  down  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  251 

hall.  He  had  said  his  say,  and  was  going.  The  men  laughed 
and  shouted,  half  angry,  half  pleased,  but  wholly  astonished. 
And  Dick  Coppin,  with  a  burning  cheek,  sat  humiliated,  yet 
proud  of  his  cousin. 

At  the  door  Harry  met  Miss  Kennedy  with  Captain  Sorensen 
and  Nelly. 

"  We  have  heard  your  speech,"  said  Angela,  with  brightened 
eyes  and  glowing  cheeks.  "  Oh !  what  did  I  tell  you  2  You  can 
speak,  you  can  persuade — you  can  lead.  What  a  career — what 
a  career — lies  before  the  man  who  can  persuade  and  lead !" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    FIGURE-HEADS. 


It  was  Sunday  morning,  after  breakfast,  and  Harry  was  sit- 
ting in  the  boarding-house  common-room,  silently  contemplating 
his  two  fellow-boarders,  Josephus  and  Mr.  Maliphant.  The  cir- 
cle at  Bormalack's  was  greatly  broken  up.  Not  to  speak  of  the 
loss  of  the  illustrious  pair,  Daniel  Fagg  had  now  taken  to  live 
entirely  among  the  dressmakers,  except  in  the  evenings,  when 
their  music  and  dancing  drove  him  away ;  in  fact,  he  regarded 
the  place  as  his  own,  and  had  so  far  forgotten  that  he  took  his 
meals  there  by  invitation  as  to  criticise  the  dinners,  which  were 
always  good,  although  plain,  and  to  find  fault  with  the  beer, 
which  came  from  Messenger's.  Miss  Kennedy,  too,  only  slept 
at  the  boarding-house,  though  by  singular  forgetfulness  she 
always  paid  the  landlady  every  Saturday  morning  in  advance 
for  a  week's  board  and  lodging.  Therefore  Josephus  and  the 
old  man  for  the  most  part  sat  in  the  room  alone,  and  were  excel- 
lent company,  because  the  ill-used  junior  clerk  never  wanted  to 
talk  with  anybody,  and  the  aged  carver  of  figure-heads  never 
wanted  a  listener. 

Almost  for  the  first  time,  Harry  considered  this  old  man,  the 
rememberer  of  fag-ends  and  middle-bits  of  anecdote,  with  some- 
thing more  than  a  passing  curiosity  and  a  sense  of  irritation 
caused  by  the  incongruity  of  the  creature.  You  know  that  when- 
ever you  seriously  address  yourself  to  the  study  of  a  person, 
however  insignificant  in  appearance,  that  person  assumes  an  im* 


252  ALL    SORTS    ANU    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

portance  equal  to  that  of  any  lord.  A  person,  you  see,  is  an 
individual,  or  an  indivisible  thing.  Wherefore,  let  us  not  de- 
spise our  neighbor.  The  ancient  Mr.  Maliphant  was  a  little, 
thin,  old  man,  with  a  few  gray  hairs  left,  but  not  many ;  his 
face  was  enwrapped,  so  to  speak,  in  a  pair  of  very  high  collars, 
and  he  wore  a  black  silk  stock,  not  very  rusty,  for  he  had  been 
in  the  reign  of  the  fourth  George  a  dapper  young  fellow,  and 
possessed  a  taste  in  dress  beyond  the  lights  of  Limehouse.  But 
this  was  in  his  nautical  days,  and  before  he  developed  his  nat- 
ural genius  for  carving  ships'  figure-heads.  He  had  no  teeth 
left,  and  their  absence  greatly  shortened  the  space  between  nose 
and  chin,  which  produced  an  odd  effect ;  he  was  closely  shaven ; 
his  face  was  covered  all  over  like  an  ocean  with  innumerable 
wrinkles,  crowsfeet,  dimples,  furrows,  valleys,  and  winding  water- 
courses, which  showed  like  the  universal  smile  of  an  accurate 
map.  His  forehead,  when  the  original  thatch  was  thick,  must 
have  been  rather  low  and  weak ;  his  eyes  were  stiU  bright  and 
blue,  though  they  wandered  while  he  talked ;  when  he  was  silent 
they  had  a  far-off  look ;  his  eyebrows,  as  often  happens  with  old 
men,  had  grown  bushy  and  were  joined  across  the  bridge  ;  when 
his  memory  failed  him,  which  was  frequently  the  case,  they 
frowned  almost  as  terribly  as  those  of  Daniel  Fagg ;  his  figure 
was  spare  and  his  legs  thin,  and  he  sat  on  one  side  of  the  chair 
with  his  feet  twisted  beneath  it ;  he  never  did  anything,  except 
to  smoke  one  pipe  at  night ;  he  never  took  the  least  notice  of 
anybody ;  when  he  talked,  he  addressed  the  whole  company, 
not  any  individual ;  and  he  was  affected  by  no  man's  happiness 
or  suffering.  He  had  lived  so  long  that  he  had  no  more  sym- 
pathy left;  the  world  was  nothing  more  to  him;  he  had  no 
further  interest  in  it ;  he  had  gone  beyond  it  and  out  of  it ;  he 
was  so  old  that  he  had  not  a  friend  left  who  knew  him  when 
he  was  young ;  he  lived  apart ;  he  was,  perforce,  a  hermit. 

Harry  remembered,  looking  upon  this  survival,  that  the  old 
man  had  once  betrayed  a  knowledge  of  his  father  and  of  the 
early  history  of  the  Coppin  and  Messenger  families.  He  won- 
dered now  why  he  had  not  tried  to  get  more  out  of  him.  It 
would  be  a  family  chronicle  of  small  beer,  but  there  could  be 
nothing,  probably,  very  disagreeable  to  learn  about  the  career 
of  the  late  sergeant,  his  father,  nor  anything  painful  about  the 
course  of  the  Cgppins.     On  this  Sunday  morning,  when  the  old 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  263 

man  looked  as  if  the  cares  of  the  week  were  off  his  mind,  his 
memory  should  be  fresh — clearer  than  on  a  week-day. 

In  the  happy  family  of  boarders,  none  of  whom  pretended  to 
take  the  least  interest  in  each  other,  nobody  ever  spoke  to  Mr. 
Maliphant,  and  nobody  listened  when  he  spoke  ;  nobody,  except 
Mrs.  Bormalack,  who  was  bound  by  rules  of  politeness,  took  the 
least  notice  of  his  coming  or  of  his  going ;  nobouy  knew  how 
he  lived  or  what  he  paid  for  his  board  and  lodging,  or  anything 
else  about  him.  Once,  it  was  certain,  he  had  been  in  the  mer- 
cantile marine.  Now  he  had  a  "  yard ;"  he  went  to  this  yard 
every  day ;  it  was  rumored  that  in  this  yard  he  carved  figure- 
heads all  day  for  large  sums  of  money ;  he  came  home  in  the 
evening  in  time  for  supper ;  a  fragrance,  as  of  rum-and-water, 
generally  accompanied  him  at  that  time  ;  and  after  a  pipe  and  a 
little  more  grog,  and  a  few  reminiscences  chopped  up  in  bits  and 
addressed  to  the  room  at  large,  the  old  fellow  would  retire  for 
the  night.  A  perfectly  cheerful  and  harmless  old  man,  yet  not 
companionable. 

"  Did  you  know  my  father,  Mr.  Maliphant?"  asked  Harry,  by 
way  of  opening  up  the  conversation.  "  He  was  a  sergeant,  you 
know,  in  the  army." 

Mr.  Maliphant  started  and  looked  bewildered ;  he  had  been, 
in  imagination,  somewhere  off  Cape  Horn,  and  he  could  not  get 
back  at  a  moment's  notice.  It  irritated  him  to  have  to  leave  his 
old  friends. 

"  Your  father,  young  gentleman  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  vexed  and 
trembling  quaver.  "  Did  I  know  your  father  ?  Pray,  sir,  how 
am  I  to  know  that  you  ever  had  a  father  ?" 

"  You  said,  the  other  day,  that  you  did.  Think  again.  My 
father,  you  know,  married  Caroline  Coppin." 

"  Ay,  ay  —  Caroline  Coppin  —  I  remember  Caroline  Coppin. 
Oh,  yes,  sister  she  was  to  Bob — when  Bob  was  third  mate  of  an 
East-Indiaman  ;  a  devil  of  a  fellow  was  Bob,  though  but  a  boy  ; 
and  if  living  now,  which  I  much  misdoubt,  would  be  but  sixty 
or  thereabouts.  Everybody,  young  man,  knew  Bob  Coppin  " — 
here  he  relapsed  into  silence.  When  he  spoke  again,  he  carried 
on  aloud  the  subject  of  his  thoughts — "  below  he  did  his  duty. 
Such  a  man,  sir,  was  Bob  Coppin." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Maliphant.  I  seem  to  know  Bob  quite  well 
from  your  description.     And  now  he's  gone  aioft,  hasn't  he? 


254  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

And  when  the  word  comes  to  pass  all  hands,  there  will  be  Bob 
with  a  hitch  of  his  trousers  and  a  kick  of  the  left  leg.  But  about 
my  mother." 

"  Young  gentleman,  how  am  I  to  know  that  you  were  bom 
with  a  mother  ?  Law  !  law !  One  might  as  well — "  here  his 
voice  dropped  again  and  he  finished  the  sentence  with  the  silent 
motion  of  his  lips. 

"  Caroline  Coppin,  you  know  ;  your  old  friend." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No — oh,  no  !  I  knew  her  when  she  was  as  high  as  that  table. 
My  young  friend,  not  my  old  friend,  she  was.  How  could  she 
be  my  old  friend  ?  She  married  Sergeant  Goslett,  and  he  went 
out  to  India  and — and — something  happened  there.  Perhaps 
he  was  cast  away.     A  many  get  cast  away  in  those  seas." 

"  Is  that  all  you  remember  about  her  ?" 

"  I  can  remember,"  said  the  old  man,  *'  a  wonderful  lot  of 
things  at  times.  You  mustn't  ask  any  man  to  remember  all  at 
once.  Not  at  his  best,  you  mustn't,  and  I  doubt  I  am  hardly  at 
what  you  may  call  my  tip-top  ripest — yet.  Wait  a  bit,  young 
man  ;  wait  a  bit.  I  have  been  to  a  many  ports,  and  carved  figure- 
heads for  a  many  ships,  and  they  got  cast  away,  one  after  the 
other,  but  dear  to  memory  still,  and  paid  for.  Like  Sergeant 
Goslett.  A  handsome  man  he  was,  with  curly  brown  hair,  like 
yours,  young  gentleman.  I  remember  how  he  sang  a  song  in 
this  very  house  when  Caroline— or  was  it  her  sister? — had  it, 
and  I  forget  whether  it  was  before  Bunker  married  her  sister  or 
after  Caroline's  baby  was  born,  which  was  when  the  child's  father 
was  dead.     A  beautiful  evening  we  had." 

Caroline's  baby,  Harry  surmised,  was  himself. 

"  Where  was  Caroline's  baby  born  ?"  Harry  asked. 

"  Where  should  he  be  ?  Why,  o'  course,  in  his  mother's  own 
house." 

"  Why  should  he  be  born  in  his  mother's  own  house  ?  I  did 
not  know  that  his  mother  had  a  house." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  with  pity.  "Young  man,"  he 
said,  "  you  know  nothing.     Your  ignorance  is  shameful." 

"  But  why  ?" 

"  Enough  said,  young  gentleman,"  replied  Mr.  Maliphant,  with 
dignity.  "  Enough  said ;  youth  should  not  sport  with  age  ;  it 
doth  not  become  gray  hairs  to — to — " 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  255 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  except  to  himself,  but  what 
he  did  say  was  something  emphatic  and  improving,  because  he 
shook  his  head  a  good  deal  over  it. 

Presently  he  got  up  and  left  the  room.  Harry  watched  him 
getting  his  hat  and  tying  his  muflBer  about  his  neck.  When 
things  were  quite  adjusted,  the  old  man  feebly  tottered  down 
the  steps,     Harry  took  his  hat  and  followed  him. 

*'  May  I  walk  with  you,  sir  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Surely,  surely  !"  Mr.  Maliphant  was  surprised ;  "  it  is  an 
unusual  thing  for  me  to  have  a  companion.  Formerly,  they 
came — ah  ! — all  the  way  from  Rotherhithe  to — to  sing  and  drink 
with  me." 

"  Will  you  take  my  arm  ?"  Hairy  asked. 

The  little  old  man,  who  wore  black  trousers  and  a  dress-coat 
out  of  respect  to  the  day,  but,  although  the  month  was  Decem- 
ber, no  great-coat — in  fact,  he  had  never  worn  a  great-coat  in  all 
his  life — was  trotting  along  with  steps  which  showed  weakness 
but  manifest  intention,  Harry  wondered  where  he  meant  to  go. 
He  took  the  proffered  arm,  however,  and  seemed  to  get  on  better 
for  the  support. 

"  Are  you  going  to  church,  sir  ?"  asked  Harry,  when  they  came 
opposite  the  good  old  church  of  Stepney,  with  its  vast  acres  of 
dead  men,  and  heard  the  bells  ringing. 

"  No,  young  gentleman,  no,  certainly  not.  I  have  more  im- 
portant business  to  look  after." 

He  quickened  his  steps,  and  they  left  the  church  behind  them. 

"  Church  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Maliphant,  with  severity.  "  When 
there's  property  to  look  after  the  bells  may  ring  as  loud  as  they 
please.  Church  is  good  for  paupers  and  churchwardens.  Where 
would  the  property  be,  do  you  think,  if  I  were  not  on  the  spot 
every  day  to  protect  it  ?" 

He  turned  off  the  high  street  into  a  short  street  of  small 
houses,  neither  better  nor  worse  than  the  thousands  of  houses 
around ;  it  was  a  cul-de-sac,  and  ended  in  a  high  brick  wall  with 
a  large  gateway  in  the  middle  and  square  stone  pillars  and  a 
ponderous  pair  of  wooden  gates,  iron  bound,  as  if  they  guarded 
things  of  the  greatest  value.  There  was  also  a  small  wicket 
beside  it,  which  the  old  man  carefully  unlocked  and  opened, 
looking  round  to  see  that  no  burglars  followed. 

Harry  saw,  within,  a  tolerably  large  yard,  m  the  middle  of 


256  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

which  was  a  little  house  of  one  room.  The  house  was  a  most 
wonderful  structure;  it  was  built  apparently  of  packing-cases 
nailed  on  four  or  eight  square  posts ;  it  was  furnished  with  a 
door,  a  window,  and  a  chimney,  all  complete ;  it  was  exactly 
like  a  doll's  house,  only  that  it  was  rather  larger,  being  at  least 
six  feet  high  and  eight  feet  square.  The  house  was  painted 
green  ;  the  roof  was  painted  red ;  the  door  blue  :  there  was  also 
a  brass  knocker;  so  that  in  other  respects  it  was  like  a  doll's 
house. 

"  Aha !"  cried  the  old  man,  rubbing  his  hands  and  pointing 
to  the  old  house.  "  I  built  it,  young  man.  That  is  ray  own 
house,  that  is ;  I  laid  the  foundations ;  I  put  up  the  walls ;  I 
painted  it.  And  I  very  well  remember  when  it  was.  Let  me 
see :  Mr.  Messenger,  who  was  a  younger  man  than  me  by  four 
years,  married  in  that  year,  or  lost  his  son — I  forget  which,"  his 
voice  lowered,  and  he  went  on  talking  to  himself :  "  Caroline's 
grandfather  went  bankrupt  in  the  building  trade  ;  or  her  father, 
perhaps,  who  afterwards  made  money  and  left  houses.  And 
here  I  am  still.  This  is  my  property,  young  gentleman,  and  I 
come  here  every  day  to  execute  orders.  Oh  !  yes  " — he  looked 
about  him  in  a  kind  of  mild  doubt — "  I  execute  orders.  Per- 
haps the  orders  don't  come  in  so  thick  as  they  did.  But  here 
I  am — ready  for  work — always  ready,  and  I  see  my  old  friends 
too,  aha !  They  come  as  thick  as  ever,  bless  you,  if  the  orders 
don't.  Quite  a  gathering  in  here,  some  days."  Harry  shud- 
dered, thinking  who  these  old  friends  might  be.  "  Sundays  and 
all  I  come  here,  and  they  come  too.     A  merry  company  !" 

The  garrulous  old  man  opened  the  door  of  the  little  house. 
Harry  saw  that  it  contained  a  cupboard  with  some  simple  cook- 
ing-utensils, and  a  fireplace,  where  the  proprietor  began  to  make 
a  fire,  and  one  chair,  and  a  little  table,  and  a  rack  with  tools ; 
there  were  also  one  or  two  pipes  and  a  tobacco  jar. 

He  looked  about  the  yard.  A  strange  place,  indeed  !  It  was 
adorned,  or  rather  furnished,  with  great  ships'  figure-heads,  carved 
in  wood,  standing  in  rows  and. circles,  some  complete,  some  half- 
finished,  some  just  begun ;  so  that  here  was  a  Lively  Peggy  with 
rudimentary  features  just  emerging  from  her  native  wood,  and 
here  a  Saucy  Sal  of  Wapping  still  clothed  in  oak  up  to  her  waist ; 
and  here  a  Neptune,  his  crowned  head  only  as  yet  indicated, 
though  the  weather-beaten  appearance  of  his  wood  showed  that 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  257 

the  time  was  long  since  he  was  begun  ;  or  a  Father  Thames,  his 
godlike  face  as  yet  showing  like  a  blurred  dream.  Or  there  were 
finished  and  perfect  heads,  painted  and  gilded,  waiting  for  the 
purchaser  who  never  came.  They  stood,  or  sat — whichever  a 
head  and  shoulder  can  be  said  to  do — with,  so  much  pride,  each 
so  rejoicing  in  himself,  and  so  disdainful  of  his  neighbor,  in  so 
haughty  a  silence,  that  they  seemed  human  and  belonging  to  the 
first  circles  of  Stepney ;  Harry  thought,  too,  that  they  eyed  him 
curiously,  as  if  he  might  be  the  long-expected  ship-owner  come 
to  buy  a  figure-head. 

"  Here  is  property,  young  man !"  cried  the  old  man ;  he  had 
lit  his  fire  now,  and  came  to  the  door,  craning  forward  and  spread- 
ing his  hands.  "  Look  at  the  beauties.  There's  truth  !  There's 
expression  !  Mine,  young  man,  all  mine.  Hundreds — thousands 
of  pounds  here,  to  be  protected." 

"  Do  you  come  here  every  day  ?"  Harry  asked. 

"  Every  day.     The  property  must  be  looked  after." 

"  And  do  you  sit  here  all  day,  by  yourself  ?" 

"  "Why,  who  else  should  I  sit  with  ?  And  a  man  like  me  never 
sits  alone.  Bless  your  heart,  young  gentleman,  of  a  morning, 
when  I  sit  before  the  fire  and  smoke  a  pipe,  this  room  gets  full 
o'  people.  They  crowd  in,  they  do.  Dead  people,  I  mean,  of 
course.  I  know  more  dead  men  than  living.  They're  the  best 
company,  after  all.     Bob  Coppin  comes,  for  one." 

Harry  began  to  look  about,  wondering  whether  the  ghost  of  Bob 
might  suddenly  appear  at  the  door.  On  the  whole,  he  envied 
the  old  man  his  company  of  departed  friends. 

"  So  you  talk,"  he  said,  "  you  and  the  dead  people  ?"  By  this 
time  the  old  man  had  got  into  his  chair,  and  Harry  stood  in  the 
doorway,  for  there  really  was  not  room  for  more  than  one  in  the 
house  at  the  same  time,  to  say  nothing  of  inconveniencing  and 
crowding  the  merry  company  of  ghosts. 

"  You  wouldn't  believe,"  said  the  old  man,  "  the  talks  we  have 
nor  the  yarns  we  spin  when  we're  here  together." 

"  It  must  be  a  jovial  time,"  said  Harry.     "  Do  they  drink  ?" 

Mr.  Maliphant  screwed  up  his  lips  and  shook  his  head  mys- 
teriously. "  Not  of  a  morning,"  he  replied,  as  if  in  the  even- 
ing the  old  rollicking  customs  were  still  kept  up. 

"  And  you  talk  about  old  times — eh  ?" 

"  There's  nothing  else  to  talk  about,  as  I  know." 


258  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Certainly  not.  Sometimes  you  talk  about  my — about  Caro- 
line Coppin's  father,  I  suppose,  I  mean  the  one  who  made  money, 
not  the  one  who  went  bankrupt." 

"  Houses,"  said  Mr.  Maliphant ;  "  houses  it  was." 

"  Oh !" 

"  Twelve  houses  there  were,  all  his  own.  Two  sons  and  two 
daughters  to  divide  among.  Bob  Coppin  sold  his  at  once — 
Bunker  bought  'em — and  we  drank  up  the  money  down  Poplar 
way,  him  and  me  and  a  few  friends  together  in  a  friendly  and 
comfortable  spirit.  A  fine  time  we  had,  I  remember.  Jack 
Coppin  was  in  his  father's  trade,  and  he  lost  his  money ;  specu- 
lated, he  did.  Builders  are  a  believin'  people.  Bunker  got  his 
houses,  too." 

"  Jack  was  my  cousin  Dick's  father,  I  suppose,"  said  Harry. 
"  Go  ahead,  old  boy.  The  family  history  is  reeling  out  beauti- 
fully.    Where  did  the  other  houses  go  ?" 

But  the  old  man  had  gone  off  on  another  tack. 

"  There  were  more  Coppins,"  he  said.  "  When  I  was  a  boy, 
to  be  a  Coppin  of  Stepney  was  a  thing  of  pride.  Josephus's 
father  was  churchwarden,  and  held  up  his  head." 

"  Did  he,  really  ?" 

"  If  I  hadn't  the  property  to  look  after,  I  would  show  you 
his  tombstone  in  Stepney  churchyard." 

"  That,"  said  Harry,  "  would  be  a  great  happiness  for  me. 
As  for  Caroline  Coppin,  now — " 

"  She  was  a  pretty  maid,  she  was,"  the  old  man  went  on. 
"  I  saw  her  born  and  brought  up.     And  she  married  a  sojer." 

"  I  know,  and  her  three  houses  were  lost  too,  I  suppose." 

"  Why  should  her  houses  be  lost,  young  man  ?"  Mr.  Maliphant 
asked,  with  severity.  "  Houses  don't  run  away.  When  she 
died,  she  left  a  baby,  she  did,  and  when  the  baby  was  took — or 
was  stolen — or  something — Bunker  said  those  houses  were  his. 
But  not  lost.  You  can't  lose  a  house.  You  may  lose  a  figure- 
head ;"  he  got  up  and  looked  outside  to  see  if  his  were  safe. 
"  Or  a  big  drum,  but  not  a  house." 

"  Oh  !"  Harry  started.  "  Bunker  said  the  houses  were  his, 
did  he  ?" 

"  Of  course  he  did." 

"  And,  if  the  baby  had  not  died,  those  houses  would  still  be 
the  property  of  that  baby,  I  suppose." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  259 

But  Mr.  Maliphant  made  no  reply.  He  was  now  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  the  intoxication  produced  by  his  morning  pipe, 
and  was  sitting  in  his  arm-chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  fender, 
disposed,  apparently,  for  silence.  Presently  he  began  to  talk, 
as  usual,  to  himself.  Nor  could  he  be  induced,  by  any  leading 
questions,  to  remember  anything  more  of  the  things  which  Harry 
wanted  him  to  remember.  But  he  let  his  imagination  wander. 
Gradually  the  room  became  filled  with  dead  people,  and  he  was 
talking  with  them.  Nor  did  he  seem  to  know  that  Harry  was 
with  him  at  all. 

Harry  slipped  quietly  away,  shutting  the  door  after  him,  so 
that  the  old  man  might  be  left  quite  alone  with  his  ghosts. 

The  yard,  littered  with  wood,  crowded  with  the  figure-heads, 
all  of  which  seemed  turning  inquiring  and  jealous  eyes  upon  the 
stranger,  was  silent  and  ghostly.  Thither  came  the  old  man 
every  day,  to  sit  before  the  fire  in  his  little  red  and  green  doll's 
house,  to  cook  his  own  beefsteak  for  himself,  to  drink  his  glass 
of  grog  after  dinner,  to  potter  about  among  his  carved  heads,  to 
talk  to  his  friends  the  ghosts,  to  guard  his  property,  and  to  exe- 
cute the  orders  which  never  came.  For  the  shipbuilders  who 
had  employed  old  Mr.  Maliphant  were  all  dead  and  gone,  and 
nobody  knew  of  his  yard  any  more,  and  he  had  it  all  to  himself. 
The  tide  of  time  had  carried  away  all  his  friends  and  left  him 
alone  ;  the  memory  of  him  among  active  men  was  gone  ;  no  one 
took  any  more  interest  in  him,  and  he  had  ceased  to  care  for 
anything ;  to  look  back  was  his  only  pleasure.  No  one  likes  to 
die  at  any  time,  but  who  would  wish  to  grow  so  very  old  ? 

And  those  houses  ?  Why,  if  the  old  man's  memory  was  right, 
then  Bunker  had  simply  appropriated  his  property.  Was  that, 
Harry  asked,  the  price  for  which  he  traded  the  child  away  ? 

He  went  straight  away  to  his  cousin  Dick,  who,  mindful  of 
the  recent  speech  at  the  club,  was  a  little  disposed  to  be  resent- 
ful. It  fortunately  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  however,  and 
one  of  those  two  had  no  intention  of  a  family  row. 

"  Never  mind,  Dick,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  an  allusion  to  the 
speech.  "  Hang  the  club.  I  want  to  ask  you  about  something 
else.     Now,  then,  tell  me  about  your  grandfather." 

"  I  cannot.  He  died  before  I  can  remember.  He  was  a 
builder." 

"  Did  he  leave  property  ?" 


260  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  There  were  some  houses,  I  believe.  My  father  lost  his  share, 
I  know.     Speculated  it  away." 

"Your  uncle  Bob — what  became  of  his  share?" 

"  Bob  was  a  worthless  chap.  He  drank  everything,  so  of 
course  he  drank  up  his  houses." 

"  Then  we  come  to  the  two  daughters.  Bunker  married  one, 
and  of  course  he  got  his  wife's  share.  What  became  of  my 
mother's  share?" 

"  Indeed,  Harry,  I  do  not  know." 

"  Who  would  know  ?" 

"  Bunker  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  Of  course 
he  knows." 

"  Dick,"  said  Harry,  "  should  you  be  astonished  to  leam  that 
the  respectable  Uncle  Bunker  is  a  mighty  great  rogue  ?  But 
say  nothing,  Dick.  Say  nothing.  Let  me  consider  how  to  bring 
the  thing  home  to  him." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  professor's  PROPOSAL. 


Whbn  the  professor  called  upon  Angela  that  same  Sunday 
morning  and  requested  an  interview,  she  perceived  that  some- 
thing serious  was  intended.  He  had  on,  as  if  for  an  occasion, 
a  new  coat  with  a  flower  in  the  buttonhole — a  chrysanthemum. 
His  face  was  extremely  solemn,  and  his  fingers,  which  always 
seemed  restless  and  dissatisfied  unless  they  were  making  things 
disappear  and  come  again,  were  quite  still.  Certainly,  he  had 
something  on  his  mind. 

The  drawing-room  had  one  or  two  girls  in  it,  who  were  read- 
ing and  talking,  though  they  ought  to  have  been  in  church — 
Angela  left  their  religious  duties  to  their  own  consciences. 
But  the  dining-room  was  empty,  and  the  interview  was  held 
there. 

The  professor  had  certainly  made  up  in  his  own  mind  exactly 
what  was  going  to  be  said ;  he  had  dramatized  the  situation — 
a  very  good  plan  if  you  are  quite  sure  of  the  replies  ;  otherwise, 
you  are  apt  to  be  put  out. 

"  Miss  Kennedy,"  he  began,  with  a  low  voice,  *'  allow  me,  first 


"//i  the  fuU  enjoyment  of  the  intoxication  produced  by  his  morning  pipe.' 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  261 

of  all,  to  thank  you  for  your  great  kindness  during  a  late  season 
of  depression." 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  a  late  season,"  said  Angela ;  "  that  means,  I 
presume,  that  the  depression  has  passed  away." 

"  Quite,  I  am  glad  to  say  ;  in  fact,"  the  professor  laughed, 
cheerfully,  *'  I  have  got  engagements  from  now  to  nearly  the 
end  of  April,  in  the  country,  and  am  in  treaty  for  a  "West  End 
engagement  in  May.  Industry  and  application,  not  to  speak  of 
talent,  will  make  their  way  in  the  long  run.  But  I  hope  I  am 
none  the  less  grateful  to  you  for  your  loan — let  me  call  it  a  loan 
— when  things  were  tight.  I  assure  you.  Miss  Kennedy,  that 
the  run  into  the  country,  after  those  parish  registers,  was  as  good 
as  a  week's  engagement,  simple  as  it  looked ;  and  as  for  that 
Saturday  night  for  your  girls — " 

"  Oh,  professor,  we  were  agreed  that  it  should  appear  to  be 
given  by  you  for  nothing." 

"Never  mind  what  was  agreed.  You  know  very  well  what 
was  paid  for  it.  Now,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  night's  per- 
formance and  that  little  trip  into  the  country,  I  verily  believe 
they  would  have  had  to  send  for  a  nice  long  box  for  me,  a  box 
that  can't  be  palmed,  and  I  should  have  gone  off  in  it  to  a  coun- 
try where  perhaps  they  don't  care  for  conjuring." 

"  In  that  case,  professor,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  been  of 
help." 

"  And  so,"  he  went  on,  following  the  programme  he  had  laid 
down  in  his  own  mind — "  and  so  I  have  come  here  to-day,  to 
ask  if  your  interest  in  conjuring  could  be  stimulated  to  a  pro- 
fessional height." 

"  Eeally,  I  do  not  know — professional  ?     You  mean — " 

"  Anybody  can  see  that  you've  showed  an  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject beyond  what  is  expected  or  found  in  women.  What  I  came 
here  to-day  for  is  to  ask  whether  you  like  the  conjurer  well 
enough  to  take  to  conjuring." 

Angela  laughed,  and  was  astonished,  after  being  told  by  Daniel 
Fagg  that  he  would  honor  her  by  making  her  his  wife  but  for 
certain  reasons  of  age.  Now,  having  become  hardened,  it  seemed 
but  a  small  thing  to  receive  the  offer  of  a  conjurer,  and  the  pro- 
posal to  join  the  profession. 

"  I  think  it  must  be  the  science,  professor,"  she  said  ;  "  yes ; 
it  must  be  the  science  that  I  like  so  much :  not  the  man  who 


262  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

exhibits  his  skill  in  the  science.  Yes,  I  think  of  your  admirable 
science." 

"  Ah !"  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  "  you  are  quite  right,  miss ; 
science  is  better  than  love.  Love  !  what  sort  of  a  thing  is  that, 
when  you  get  tired  of  it  in  a  month  ?  But  science  fills  up  all 
your  life — and  we  are  always  learning — always." 

"  I  am  so  glad,  professor,  that  I  can  agree  with  you  entirely." 

"  Which  makes  me  bolder,"  he  said,  "  because  we  could  be 
useful  to  each  other,  without  pretending  to  be  in  love,  or  any 
nonsense  of  that  sort." 

"  Indeed  1  Now,  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  be  useful  to  you 
without,  as  you  say,  any  foolish  pretence  or  nonsense." 

"  The  way  is  this ;  you  can  play,  can't  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  sing?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  dance  in  tights  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  did  that." 

"  Ah  well — it's  a  pity — but  one  can't  expect  everything.  And 
no  doubt  you'd  take  to  it  easy.  They  all  do.  Did  you  ever 
sing  on  the  stage — at  a  music-hall,  I  mean  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  never  did." 

"  There  was  a  chap — but  I  suppose  he  was  a  liar — said  you 
used  to  sing  under  an  electric  light  at  the  Canterbury,  with 
a  character-dance,  and  a  topical  song  and  a  kick-up  at  the 
finish." 

"  Yes,  professor,  I  think  that  *  chap '  must  certainly  be  writ- 
ten down  a  liar.     But  go  on." 

"  I  told  him  he  was,  and  he  offered  to  fight  me  for  half  a 
crown.  When  I  said  I'd  do  it,  and  willing,  for  a  bob,  he  went 
away.  I  think  he's  the  fellow  Harry  Goslett  knocked  down  one 
night.  Bunker  put  him  up  to  it.  Bunker  doesn't  like  you. 
Never  mind  him.     Look  here  now." 

"  I  am  looking,  as  hard  as  I  can." 

"  There's  some  things  that  bring  the  money  in,  and  some  that 
don't.     Dressmaking  don't,  conjurin'  does." 

"  Yet  you  yourself,  professor — " 

"  Why  ?"  he  asked  ;  "  because  I  am  only  four-and-twenty, 
and  not  much  known  as  yet.  Give  me  time — wait.  Lord !  to 
see  the  clumsy  things  done  by  the  men  who've  got  a  name ;  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  263 

how  they  go  down !  And  a  child  would  spot  the  dodge.  Now, 
mark  my  words,  if  you  go  in  with  me,  there's  a  fortune  in  it." 

'*  For  your  sake,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  but  it  must  be  without 
me." 

"  It  is  for  your  sake  that  I  tell  you  of  it." 

He  was  not  in  love  at  all — love  and  science  have  never  yet 
really  composed  their  differences — and  there  was  not  the  least 
dropping  of  his  voice  or  any  other  sign  of  passion  in  his  speech. 

"  For  your  sake,"  he  repeated,  "  because,  if  you  can  be  got  to 
see  your  way  as  I  see  it,  there's  a  fortune  for  both  of  us." 

"  Oh !" 

"  Yes.  Now,  miss,  you  listen :  conjurin',  like  most  things,  is 
makin'  believe  and  deceivin'.  What  we  do  is  to  show  you  one 
thing  and  to  do  another.  The  only  thing  is,  to  do  it  so  quick 
that  it  sha'n't  be  seen,  even  by  the  few  men  who  know  how  it 
is  done.  No  woman  yet  was  ever  able  to  be  a  conjurer,  which 
is  a  rum  thing,  because  their  fingers  do  pretty  for  music  and 
lace-work  and  such.  But  for  conjurin',  they  haven't  the  mind. 
You  want  a  man's  brain  for  such  work." 

"  I  have  always,"  said  Angela,  "  felt  what  poor  weak  things 
we  are  compared  with  men." 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  continued  the  professor,  gallantly  ;  "  but  you 
do  have  your  uses  in  the  world.  Most  things  have.  Now,  as  a 
confederate  or  an  assistant,  there's  nobody  like  a  woman.  They 
do  what  they  are  told  to  do ;  they  are  faithful  over  the  secrets ; 
they  learn  their  place  on  the  platform,  and  they  stay  there. 
Some  professors  carry  about  a  boy  with  them.  But  you  can't 
place  any  real  trust  in  a  boy.  He's  always  up  to  tricks,  and,  if 
you  wallop  him,  likely  as  not  next  night  he'll  take  and  spoil  your 
best  trick,  out  of  revenge.  Some  have  a  man  to  help,  but  then 
he  learns  the  secrets  and  tries  to  cut  you  out.  But  with  a  woman 
you're  always  pretty  safe.  A  daughter's  best,  because  then  you 
pocket  all  the  money  yourself ;  but  a  wife  is  next  best  so  long 
as  she  keeps  steady  and  acts  on  the  square." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  before,"  said  Angela.  "  But  I  sup- 
pose it  is  as  you  say,  and  the  real  object  for  which  women  were 
created  must  have  been  the  assistance  of  conjurers." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  professor,  failing  to  see  the  delicate  sar- 
casm of  this  remark.  "  Of  course  :  what  better  thing  could  they 
do  ?  Why :  here  you  sit  slaving  all  dav  long  and  all  the  year 
8 


264  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

round,  and  what  are  you  better  for  it  ?  A  bare  living :  that's  all 
you  get  out  of  it.  Whether  you  go  into  shops,  behind  a  bar, 
or  into  the  workroom,  it's  the  same  story :  a  bare  living.  Look 
at  the  conjurin'  line,  now.  You  live  in  splendor :  you  go  on  the 
■  stage  in  a  most  beautiful  costoora — silks  and  satins,  gold  and 
spangles,  tights  if  you  like :  you  travel  about  the  country  free : 
you  hear  the  people  clappin'  their  hands  whenever  you  go  on, 
and  believin'  that  you  do  it  all  yourself :  you've  got  nothing  to 
do  but  just  what  you  are  told :  and — and  that's  your  life,  with 
pockets  full  of  money  and  the  proud  consciousness  that  you  are 
making  your  fortune." 

*'  It  certainly  seems  very  beautiful  to  look  at.  Are  there  no 
drawbacks  ?" 

"  None,"  answered  the  enthusiast.  "  It's  the  best  profession 
in  the  world.  There's  no  danger  in  it:  there's  no  capital  re- 
quired: all  it  wants  is  cleverness.  That's  why  I  come  to  you, 
because  you  are  a  real  clever  girl,  and,  what's  more,  you're  good- 
looking.     It  is  not  always  that  looks  and  brains  go  together." 

"  Very  well,  professor.  Let  us  come  to  the  point.  What  is 
it  you  want  me  to  do  ?" 

"  I  want  you.  Miss  Kennedy,  to  go  about  the  country  with  me. 
You  shall  be  my  assistant:  you  shall  play  the  piano  and  come 
on  dressed  in  a  pink  costoom,  which  generally  fetches  at  an  en- 
tertainment. Nothing  to  say  ;  and  I  will  teach  you,  by  degrees, 
all  the  dodges ;  and  the  way  it's  done  you  will  learn.  You'll 
be  surprised  when  you  find  how  easy  it  is,  and  yet  how  you 
can't  do  it ;  and  when  you  hear  the  people  telling  what  they 
saw,  and  you  know  just  exactly  what  they  could  have  seen  if 
they'd  had  their  eyes  in  their  heads,  you'll  laugh — you  will." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  I  can't  think — " 

"  Don't  raise  diflBculties,  now,"  he  spoke  persuasively.  "  I 
am  coming  to  them  directly.  I've  got  ideas  in  my  head  which 
1  can't  carry  through  without  a  real  clever  confederate,  and  you 
must  be  that  confederate.  Electricity,  now,"  he  lowered  his 
voice  and  whispered  ;  "  none  of  the  conjurers  have  got  a  batterv 
at  work.  Think  of  new  feats  of  marvel  and  magic,  never  before 
considered  possible — and  done  secret  by  electricity.  W^hat  a 
shame — what  a  cruel  shame — to  have  let  the  world  get  hold  of 
electricity  !  Why,  it  ought  to  have  been  kept  for  conjurers. 
And  telephones,  again :  what  a  scope  there  is  in  a  good  tele- 


ALL    80ETS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  266 

phone.  You  and  me  together,  Miss  Kennedy,  could  knock  up 
an  entertainment  as  nobody  yet  ever  dreamed  of.  K  you  could 
dance  a  bit,  it  would  be  an  advantage :  but,  if  you  won't,  of  course 
we  must  give  it  up :  and  as  to  the  dressmaking  rubbish,  why,  in 
a  week  you  will  be  wondering  how  in  the  world  you  ever  came 
to  waste  your  time  upon  it  at  all  while  such  a  chance  was  going 
about  in  the  world.  Not  that  I  blame  you  for  it :  not  at  all :  it 
was  your  ignorance  kept  you  out  of  it  and  your  good-luck  threw 
you  in  the  way  of  it." 

"  That  may  be  so  ;  but  still  I  am  not  sure — " 

"  I  haven't  done  yet.  Look  here,  I've  been  turning  the  thing 
over  in  my  own  mind  a  good  bit.  The  only  way  I  can  think  of 
for  such  a  girl  as  you  to  go  about  the  country  with  a  show,  is 
for  you  to  be  married  to  the  showman.  So  I'll  marry  you  be- 
fore we  start,  and  then  we  shall  be  comfortable  and  happy,  and 
ready  for  the  fortune  to  come  in,  and  you'll  be  quite  sure  of 
your  share  in  it." 

"  Thank  you,  professor." 

"  Very  good,  then,  no  need  for  thanks.  I've  got  engagements 
in  the  country  for  over  three  months.  We'll  marry  at  once,  and 
you  can  spend  that  time  in  learning." 

Angela  laughed.  Were  women  of  "  her  class,"  she  thought, 
so  easily  won  and  so  unceremoniously  wooed  ?  Were  there  no 
preliminary  advances,  soft  speeches,  words  of  compliment  and 
flattery  ? 

"  I've  been  layin'  out  a  plan,"  the  professor  went  on,  "  for 
the  most  complete  thing  you  ever  saw — never  before  attempted 
on  any  stage — marvellous  optical  illusion.  Hush !  Electricity  ;" 
he  said  this  in  a  stage  whisper.  "  You  are  to  be  a  fairy — stale 
old  business,  isn't  it  ?  but  it  always  pays.  Silk  stockin's  and 
gauze,  with  a  wand.  I'm  Sindbad  the  Sailor — or  Robinson 
Crusoe — it  doesn't  matter  what — and  then  you — " 

"  Stay  a  moment,  professor ;"  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  ; 
"  you  have  not  waited  for  my  answer.  I  cannot,  unfortunately, 
marry  you,  nor  can  I  go  about  the  country  with  you,  nor  can  I 
possibly  become  your  confederate  and  assistant." 

"  You  can't  marry  me  ?  Why  not  ?  When  I  offer  you  a 
fortune  ?" 

"  Not  even  for  the  fortune." 

"  Why  not «" 
12 


266  ALL    80KT8    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

"  Well,  for  many  reasons.  One  of  them  is  that  I  cannot  leave 
my  dressmaking,  rubbish  as  it  seems  to  you.  That  is,  indeed, 
a  suflBcient  reason." 

"  Oh !"  his  face  becoming  very  sad.  "  And  I  set  my  heart 
upon  it !  The  very  first  time  I  saw  you  I  said  to  myself,  *  There's 
a  girl  for  the  business.'  Never  was  such  a  girl !  And  to  think 
that  you're  thrown  away  on  a  dressmaking  business !  Oh,  it's 
too  bad !  And  that  you're  contented  with  your  lot,  humble  as 
it  is,  when  I  offer  to  make  you  an  artist  and  to  give  you  a  fort- 
une !  That's  what  cuts  me  to  the  quick — that  you  should  be 
contented." 

"  I  am  very  much  ashamed  of  myself,"  said  Angela,  with  con- 
trition.    "  But,  you  see,  what  you  ask  is  impossible." 

"  And  I  only  made  up  my  mind,  last  night,  that  I  would  marry 
you,  if  nothing  else  would  do." 

"  Did  you  ?  poor  professor !  I  am  quite  sorry  for  you.  But 
you  should  never  marry  a  woman  unless  you  are  in  love  with 
her.     Now,  it  is  quite  clear  that  you  are  not  in  love  with  me." 

"  Love !  I've  got  my  work  to  think  of." 

"  Then  good-morning,  professor ;  let  us  part  friends,  if  I  can- 
not accept  your  offer." 

He  took  her  offered  hand  with  reluctance,  and  in  sorrow  more 
than  in  anger. 

"  Do  you  really  understand,"  he  asked, "  what  you  are  throw- 
ing away  ?     Fame  and  fortune.     Nothing  less." 

She  laughed  and  drew  back  her  hand,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Oh,  the  woman's  a  fool !"  cried  the  professor,  losing  his 
temper  and  slamming  the  door  after  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CAPTAIN    COPPIN. 


It  was  at  this  time  that  Tom  Coppin,  Captain  Coppin  of  the 
Salvation  Army,  paid  his  only  visit  to  Angela,  that  visit  which 
caused  so  great  a  sensation  among  the  girls. 

He  chose  a  quiet  evening  early  in  the  week.  Why  he  came 
has  never  been  quite  clear.  It  was  not  curiosity,  for  he  had 
none ;  nor  was  it  a  desire  to  study  the  kind  of  culture  which 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  267 

Angela  had  introduced  among  her  friends,  for  lie  had  no  knowl- 
edge of,  or  desire  for,  culture  at  all.  Nor  does  the  dressmakers' 
workshop  afford  a  congenial  place  for  the  exercise  of  that  sol- 
dier's gifts.  He  came,  perhaps,  because  he  was  passing  by  on 
his  way  from  a  red-hot  prayer  meeting  to  a  red-hot  preaching, 
and  he  thought  he  would  see  the  place  which,  among  others — 
the  Advanced  Club,  for  instance — was  keeping  his  brother  from 
following  in  his  own  steps,  and  lielping  him  to  regard  the  world, 
its  pleasures  and  pursuits,  with  eyes  of  affection.  One  knows 
not  what  he  expected  to  find  or  what  he  proposed  by  going 
there,  because  the  things  he  did  find  completely  upset  all  his 
expectations,  if  he  had  any.  Visions,  perhaps,  of  the  soul- 
destroying  dance,  and  the  red  cup,  and  the  loud  laughter  of 
fools,  and  the  talk  that  is  as  the  crackling  of  thorns,  were  in 
his  mind. 

The  room  was  occupied,  as  usual,  with  the  girls,  Angela  among 
them ;  Captain  Sorensen  was  there  too ;  the  girls  were  quietly 
busy,  for  the  most  part,  over  "  their  own  "  work,  because,  if  they 
would  go  fine,  they  must  make  their  own  fineries ;  it  was  a  frosty 
night,  and  the  fire  was  burning  clear ;  in  the  most  comfortable 
chair  beside  it  sat  the  crippled  girl  of  whom  we  know — the 
place  was  hers  by  a  sort  of  right ;  she  was  gazing  into  the  flames, 
listening  lazily  to  the  music — Angela  had  been  playing — and 
doing  nothing,  with  contentment.  Life  was  so  sweet  to  the 
child  when  she  was  not  suffering  pain,  and  was  warm,  and  was 
not  hungry,  and  was  not  hearing  complaints,  that  she  wanted 
nothing  more.  Nelly,  for  her  part,  sat  with  hands  folded  pen- 
sively, and  Angela  wondered  what  of  late  days  it  was  that  seemed 
to  trouble  her. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a  man,  dressed  in  a  tight  uni- 
form of  dark  cloth,  and  a  cap  of  the  same,  with  S.  S.  upon  it,  like 
the  lord  mayor's  gold  chain,  stood  before  them. 

He  did  not  remove  his  cap,  but  he  looked  round  the  room, 
and  presently  called  in  a  loud,  harsh  voice : 

*'  Which  of  you  here  answers  to  the  name  of  Kennedy  ?" 

"  I  do,"  replied  Angela ;  "  my  name  is  Kennedy.  What  is 
yours  ?  and  why  do  you  come  here  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Coppin.  My  work  is  to  save  souls.  I  tear 
them  out  of  the  very  clutches  and  claws  of  the  devil ;  I  will 
have  them ;  I  leave  them  no  peace  until  I  have  won  them ;  I 


268  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

cry  aloud  to  them ;  I  shout  to  them ;  I  pray  for  them :  I  sing 
to  them ;  I  seek  them  out  in  their  hiding-places,  even  in  their 
dens  and  courts  of  sin;  there  are  none  too  far  gone  for  my 
work ;  none  that  I  will  let  go  once  I  get  a  grip  of  them ;  once 
my  hand  is  on  them,  out  they  must  come,  if  the  devil  and  all  his*- 
angels  were  pulling  them  the  other  way.  For  my  strength  is 
not  of  myself ;  it  is—" 

"  But  why  do  you  come  here  ?"  asked  Angela. 
The  man  had  the  same  hlack  hair  and  bright  eyes  as  his 
brother ;  the  same  strong  voice,  although  a  long  course  of  street 
shouting  had  made  it  coarse  and  rough ;  but  his  eyes  were 
brighter,  his  lips  more  sensitive,  his  forehead  higher ;  he  was 
like  his  brother  in  all  respects,  yet  so  unlike  that,  while  the 
Radical  had  the  face  of  a  strong  man,  the  preacher  had  in  his 
the  indefinable  touch  of  weakness  which  fanaticism  always 
brings  with  it.  Whatever  else  it  was,  however,  the  face  was 
that  of  a  man  terribly  in  earnest. 

"  I  have  heard  about  you,"  he  said ;  "  you  are  of  those  who 
cry  peace  when  there  is  no  peace ;  you  entice  the  young  men 
and  maidens  who  ought  to  be  seeking  pardon,  and  preaching 
repentance,  and  you  destroy  their  souls  with  dancing  and  music. 
I  come  here  to  tell  you  that  you  are  one  of  the  instruments  of 
the  devil  in  this  wicked  town." 

"  Have  you  really  come  here,  Mr.  Coppin,  on  purpose  to  tell 
me  that  ?" 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  is  part  of  my  message." 
"  Do  you  think,"  said  Angela,  because  this  was  almost  intol- 
erable, "  that  it  is  becoming  a  preacher  like  yourself  to  invade  a 
quiet  and  private  house  in  order  to  insult  a  woman  ?" 

"  Truth  is  not  insult,"  he  said ;  "  I  come  here  as  I  would  go 
to  a  theatre,  or  a  singing-hall,  or  any  soul-destroying  place. 
You  shall  hear  the  plain  truth.  With  your  music  and  your 
dancing  and  your  pleasant  ways,  you  are  corrupting  the  souls  of 
many.  My  brother  is  hardened  in  his  unrepentance  since  he 
knew  you.  My  cousin  goes  on  laughing,  and  dances  over  the 
very  pit  of  destruction,  through  you.     These  girls — " 

"  Oh !"  cried  Eebekah,  who  had  no  sympathy  with  the  Sal- 
vation Army,  and  felt  herself  an  authority  when  the  religious 
question  was  touched,  "  they  are  all  mad.     Let  him  go  away." 
**  I  would,"  replied  the  captain,  "  that  you  were  half  as  mad 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  269 

Oh  !  I  know  you  now :  I  know  you  smug  professors  of  a  Satur- 
day religion — " 

"  Your  mission,"  Angela  interrupted,  "  is  not,  I  am  sure,  to 
argue  about  another  sect.  Come,  Mr.  Coppin,  now  that  you 
have  told  us  who  you  are,  and  what  is  your  profession,  and  why 
you  come  here,  you  might  like  to  preach  to  us.  Do  so,  if  you 
will.  We  were  sitting  here  quietly  when  you  came,  and  you 
interrupt  nothing.  So  that,  if  it  would  really  make  you  feel 
any  happier,  you  may  preach  to  us  for  a  few  minutes." 

He  looked  about  him  in  hesitation.  This  kind  of  preaching 
was  not  in  his  line :  he  loved  a  vast  hall  with  a  thousand  faces 
looking  at  him  ;  or  a  crowd  of  turbulent  roughs  ready  to  answer 
the  message  with  a  volley  of  brickbats ;  or  a  chance  gathering 
of  unrepentant  sinners  in  a  wide  thoroughfare.  He  could  lift 
up  his  voice  to  them ;  but  to  preach  in  a  quiet  room  to  a  dozen 
girls  was  a  new  experience. 

And  it  was  not  the  place  which  he  had  expected.  His  broth- 
er, in  their  last  interview,  had  thrown  in  his  teeth  this  house 
and  its  doings  as  offering  a  more  reasonable  solution  of  life's 
problems  than  his  own.  "  You  want  everybody,"  he  said,  "  to 
join  you  in  singing  and  preaching  every  day :  what  should  we 
do  when  there  was  nobody  left  to  preach  at  ?  Now,  there,  what 
they  say  is,  '  Let  us  make  ourselves  comfortable.'  There's  a 
deal  in  that,  come  to  think  of  it.  Look  at  those  girls,  now : 
while  you  and  your  Happy  Elizas  are  trampin'  in  the  mud  with 
your  flag  and  your  procession,  and  gettin'  black  eyes  and  brick- 
bats, they  are  singin'  and  laughin'  and  dancin',  and  makin'  what 
fun  they  can  for  themselves.  It  seems  to  me,  Tom,  that  if  this 
kind  of  thing  gets  fashionable,  you  and  your  army  will  be 
played  out." 

Well :  he  had  come  to  see  this  place  which  offered  pleasure 
instead  of  repentance  as  a  method  of  improving  life.  They 
were  not  laughing  and  singing  at  all :  there  were  no  men  pres- 
ent except  one  old  gentleman  in  a  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons. 
To  be  sure,  he  had  a  fiddle  lying  on  a  chair  beside  him.  There 
was  no  indication  whatever  of  the  red  cup,  and  no  smell  of  to- 
bacco. Now,  pleasure  without  drink,  tobacco,  and  singing  had 
been  in  Tom's  unregenerate  days  incomprehensible.  "I  would 
rather,"  said  Dick,  "  see  an  army  of  Miss  Kennedy's  girls  than 
an  army  of  Hallelujah  Polls."    Yet  they  seemed  perfectly  quiet. 


270  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Make  'em  happy,  Tom,  first,"  said  Dick,  who  was  still  thinking 
over  Harry's  speech  as  a  possible  point  of  departure.  Happi- 
ness is  not  a  word  in  the  dictionary  of  men  like  Tom  Coppin : 
they  know  not  what  it  means :  they  know  a  spree ;  they  under- 
stand a  drink ;  they  know  misery,  because  it  is  all  round  them  ; 
the  misery  of  hunger,  of  disease,  of  intemperance,  of  dirt,  of 
evil  temper,  of  violence — the  misery  which  the  sins  of  one  bring 
upon  all,  and  the  sins  of  all  bring  upon  each.  Indeed,  we  need 
not  go  to  Whitechapel  to  find  out  misery.  But  they  know  not 
happiness.  For  such  as  Captain  Coppin  there  is,  as  an  alterna- 
tive for  misery,  the  choice  of  glory.  What  they  mean  by  glory 
is  the  ecstasy,  the  rapture,  the  mysteries  of  emotional  religion : 
he,  they  believe,  is  the  most  advanced  who  is  most  often  hyster- 
ical :  Tom,  like  many  of  his  followers,  yearned  honestly  and 
unselfishly  to  extend  this  rapture  which  he  himself  so  often  en- 
joyed ;  but  that  there  should  be  any  other  way  out  of  misery 
save  by  way  of  the  humble  stool  of  conviction  was  a  thing  which 
he  could  not  understand.  Happiness,  calm,  peace,  content,  the 
sweet  enjoyment  of  innocent  recreation — these  things  he  knew 
nothing  of ;  they  had  not  come  in  his  way. 

He  had  come ;  he  had  seen :  no  doubt,  the  moment  his  back 
was  turned  the  orgies  would  begin.  But  he  had  delivered  his 
message :  he  had  warned  the  young  woman  who  led  the  girls — 
that  calm,  cold  woman  who  looked  at  him  with  curiosity  and 
was  so  unmoved  by  what  he  said :  he  might  go.  With  his 
whole  heart  he  had  spoken,  and  had  so  far  moved  no  one  except 
the  daughter  of  the  Seventh-day  Independent — and  her  only  a 
little.  This  kind  of  thing  is  very  irritating.  Suppose  you  were 
to  put  a  red-hot  poker  into  a  jug  of  water  without  producing 
any  steam  or  hissing  at  all;  how,  as  a  natural  philosopher, 
would  you  feel  ?" 

"  You  may  preach  to  us,  if  you  like,"  said  Miss  Kennedy. 

She  sat  before  him,  resting  her  chin  upon  her  hand.  He  knew 
that  she  was  beautiful,  although  women  and  their  faces,  graces, 
and  sweet  looks  played  no  part  at  all  in  his  thoughts.  He  felt, 
without  putting  the  thing  into  words,  that  she  was  beautiful ; 
also  that  she  regarded  him  with  a  kind  of  contempt,  as  well  as 
curiosity  ;  also  that  she  had  determined  not  to  be  moved  by 
anything  he  might  say ;  also  that  she  relied  on  her  own  influ- 
ence over  the  girls.     And  he  felt  for  a  moment  as  if  his  trusty 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  2Yl 

arms  were  dropping  from  his  hands  and  his  whole  armor  was 
slipping  from  his  shoulders.  Not  her  beauty — no  :  fifty  Helens 
of  Troy  would  not  have  moved  this  young  apostle — but  her  po- 
sition as  an  impregnable  outsider.  For  against  the  curious  out- 
sider, who  regards  captains  in  the  Salvation  Army  only  as  so 
many  interesting  results  of  growing  civilization,  their  ofiicers 
are  powerless  indeed. 

If  there  is  any  real  difference  between  the  workingman  of 
England  and  the  man  who  does  other  work,  it  is  that  the  former 
is  generally  emotional  and  the  latter  is  not.  To  the  man  of 
emotion  things  cannot  be  stated  too  strongly ;  his  leader  is  he 
who  has  the  greatest  command  of  adjectives ;  he  is  singularly 
open  to  the  charm  of  eloquence  ;  he  likes  audacity  of  statement ; 
he  likes  to  be  moved  by  wrath,  pity,  and  terror ;  he  has  no  eye 
for  shades  of  color ;  and  when  he  is  most  moved  he  thinks  he 
is  most  right.  It  is  this  which  makes  him  so  angry  with  the 
people  who  cannot  be  moved. 

Angela  was  one  of  those  persons  who  cannot  be  moved  by 
the  ordinary  methods.  She  looked  at  Tom  as  if  he  were  some 
strange  creature ;  watching  what  he  did,  listening  to  what  he 
said,  as  if  slie  were  not  like  unto  him.  It  is  not  quite  a  fair  way 
of  describing  Angela's  attitude  of  mind,  but  it  is  near  enough ; 
and  it  represents  what  passed  through  the  brain  of  the  Salvation 
captain. 

"  Will  you  preach  to  us  ?"  she  repeated  a  third  time. 

He  mechanically  opened  his  hymn-book. 

"  Number  three  hundred  and  sixty-two,"  he  said,  quietly. 

He  sang  the  hymn  all  by  himself,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  so 
that  the  windows  rattled,  to  one  of  those  rousing  and  popular 
melodies  which  have  been  pressed  into  the  service  of  the  army ; 
it  was,  in  fact,  "Molly  Darling,"  and  the  people  on  Stepney 
Green  asked  each  other  in  wonder  if  a  meeting  of  the  Salvation 
Army  was  actually  being  held  at  Miss  Kennedy's. 

When  he  had  finished  his  hymn  he  began  to  preach. 

He  stammered  at  first  because  the  surroundings  were  strange ; 
besides,  the  cold,  curious  eyes  of  Miss  Kennedy  chilled  him. 
Presently,  however,  he  recovered  self-possession,  and  began  his 
address. 

There  is  one  merit,  at  least,  possessed  by  these  preachers ;  it 
is  that  of  simplicity.     Whatever  else  they  may  be,  they  are  al- 


272  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

ways  the  same ;  even  the  words  do  not  vary  while  there  is  but 
one  idea. 

If  you  want  to  influence  the  dull  of  comprehension,  such  as 
the  common  donkey,  there  is  but  one  way  possible.  He  cannot 
be  led,  or  coaxed,  or  persuaded  ;  he  must  be  thwacked.  Father 
Stick  explains  and  makes  apparent,  instantly,  what  the  logic  of 
all  the  schools  has  failed  to  prove.  In  the  same  way,  if  you 
wish  to  awaken  the  spiritual  emotions  among  people  who  have 
hitherto  been  strange  to  them,  your  chance  is  not  by  argument, 
but  by  appeals,  statements,  prophecies,  threats,  terrors,  and  pict- 
ures, which,  in  fact,  do  exactly  correspond,  and  produce  the 
same  effect  as  Father  Stick;  they  are  so  many  knock-down 
blows ;  they  belabor  and  they  terrify. 

The  preacher  began  :  the  girls  composed  themselves  to  listen, 
with  the  exception  of  Rebekah,  who  went  on  with  her  work  os- 
tentatiously, partly  to  show  her  disapproval  of  such  irregular 
proceedings,  and  partly  as  one  who,  having  got  the  truth  from 
an  independent  source  and  being  already  advanced  in  the  nar- 
row way,  had  no  occasion  for  the  captain's  persuasion. 

It  is  one  thing  to  hear  the  voice  of  a  street-preacher  in  his 
own  church,  so  to  speak,  that  is,  on  the  curbstone,  and  quite 
another  thing  to  hear  the  same  man  and  the  same  sermon  in  a 
quiet  room.  Tom  Coppin  had  only  one  sermon,  though  he 
dressed  it  up  sometimes,  but  not  often,  in  new  words.  Yet  it 
was  relieved  of  monotony  by  the  earnestness  which  he  poured 
into  it.  He  believed  in  it  himself ;  that  goes  a  long  way.  An-' 
gela  began  by  thinking  of  the  doctrine,  but  presently  turned 
her  attention  to  the  preacher,  and  began  to  think  what  manner 
of  man  he  was.  Personally  he  was  pale  and  thin,  with  strong 
black  hair,  like  his  brother,  and  his  eyes  were  singularly  bright. 

Here  was  a  man  of  the  people ;  self-taught,  profoundly  igno- 
rant as  to  the  many  problems  of  life  and  their  many  solutions ; 
filled,  however,  with  that  noble  sympathy  which  makes  proph- 
ets, poets,  martyrs;  wholly  possessed  of  faith  in  his  narrow 
creed  ;  owning  no  authority  of  church  or  priest ;  believing  him- 
self under  direct  divine  guidance,  chosen  and  called,  the  instru- 
ment of  merciful  Heaven  to  drag  guilty  souls  from  the  pit ; 
consciously  standing  as  a  servant  day  and  night  before  a  throne 
which  other  men  regard  afar  off,  or  cannot  see  at  all ;  actually 
living  the  life  of  hardship,  privation,  and  ill-treatment  which  he 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  273 

preached ;  for  the  sake  of  others  enduring  hardness,  poverty, 
contumely ;  taking  all  these  things  as  part  and  parcel  of  the 
day's  Avork ;  and,  in  the  name  of  duty,  searching  into  corners 
and  holes  of  this  great  town  for  the  vilest,  the  most  hardened, 
the  most  depraved,  the  most  blinded  to  a  higher  life. 

This,  if  you  please,  is  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at.  What 
did  Wesley  more?  What  did  Whitefield?  Nay — what  did 
Paul? 

They  paid  him  for  his  services,  it  is  true ;  they  gave  him  JBve- 
and-twenty  shillings  a  week ;  some  of  this  great  sum  he  gave 
away ;  the  rest  provided  him  with  poor  and  simple  food.  He 
had  no  pleasures  or  joys  of  life  ;  he  had  no  recreations ;  he  had 
no  hope  of  any  pleasures ;  some  of  the  officers  of  his  army — 
being  men  and  women  as  well  as  preachers — loved  each  other 
and  were  married ;  but  this  man  had  no  thought  of  any  such 
thing ;  he,  as  much  as  any  monk,  was  vowed  to  the  service  of 
the  Master,  without  rest  or  holiday,  or  any  other  joy  than  that 
of  doing  the  work  that  lay  before  him. 

A  great  pity  and  sympathy  filled  Angela's  heart  as  she  thought 
of  these  things. 

The  man  before  her  was  for  the  moment  a  prophet ;  it  mattered 
nothing  that  his  creed  was  narrow,  his  truths  only  half-truths, 
his  doctrine  commonplace,  his  language  in  bad  taste,  his  manner 
vulgar ;  the  faith  of  the  man  covered  up  and  hid  these  defects ; 
he  had  a  message  to  mankind ;  he  was  delivering  that  message  ; 
to  him  it  was  a  fresh,  new  message,  never  before  intrusted  to 
any  man ;  he  had  to  deliver  it  perpetually,  even  though  he  went 
in  starvation. 

Angela's  heart  softened  as  she  realized  the  loyalty  of  the  man. 
He  saw  the  softening  in  her  eyes,  and  thought  it  was  the  first 
sign  of  conviction. 

But  it  was  not. 

Meantime,  if  Angela  was  thinking  of  the  preacher,  the  girls, 
of  course,  with  the  exception  of  Rebekah,  were  trembling  at  his 
words. 

Suddenly — the  unexpected  change  was  a  kind  of  rhetorical 
trick  which  often  proved  effective — the  preacher  ceased  to  de- 
nounce and  threaten,  and  spoke  of  pardon  and  peace  ;  he  called 
upon  them  in  softer  voice,  in  accents  full  of  tears  and  love,  to 
break  down  their  pride,  to  hear  the  voice  that  called  them. 
12* 


274  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

We  know  well  enough  what  he  said,  only  we  do  not  know  how 
he  said  it.  Angela  looked  about  the  room.  The  captain  sat 
with  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  his  face  dutifully  lifted  to  the 
angle  which  denotes  attention ;  his  expression  was  unmoved ; 
evidently  the  captain  was  not  open  to  conviction.  As  for  the 
girls,  they  might  be  divided  into  classes.  They  had  all  listened 
to  the  threats  and  the  warnings,  though  they  had  heard  them 
often  enough  before  ;  now,  however,  some  of  them  seemed  as  if 
they  were  impatient,  and  as  if,  with  a  little  encouragement,  they 
could  break  into  scoffing.  But  others  were  crying,  and  one  or 
two  were  steadfastly  regarding  the  speaker,  as  if  he  had  mes- 
merized them.  Among  these  was  Nelly.  Her  eyes  were  fixed, 
her  lips  were  parted,  her  breathing  was  quick,  her  cheek  was 
pale. 

Great  and  wonderful  is  the  power  of  eloquence ;  there  are 
few  orators ;  this  ex-printer,  this  uneducated  man  of  the  ranks, 
was,  like  his  brother,  born  with  the  gift  that  is  so  rare.  He 
should  have  been  taken  away  and  taught,  and  kept  from  danger, 
and  properly  fed  and  cared  for.  And  now  it  is  too  late.  They 
said  of  him  in  his  connection  that  he  was  blessed  in  the  saving 
of  souls  ;  the  most  stubborn,  the  most  hardened,  when  they  fell 
under  the  magic  of  his  presence  and  his  voice,  were  broken  and 
subdued :  what  wonder  that  a  weak  girl  should  give  way  ? 

When  he  paused  he  looked  round ;  he  noticed  the  faces  of 
those  whom  he  had  mesmerized ;  he  raised  his  arm  ;  he  pointed 
to  Nelly,  and  beckoned  her,  without  a  word,  to  rise. 

Then  the  girl  stood  up  as  if  she  could  not  choose  but  obey. 
She  moved  a  step  towards  him ;  in  a  moment  she  would  have 
been  at  his  feet,  with  sobs  and  tears,  in  the  passion  of  self- 
abasement  which  is  so  dear  to  the  revivalist.  But  Angela  broke 
the  spell.  She  sprang  towards  her,  caught  her  in  her  own  arms, 
and  passed  her  hand  before  her  eyes. 

"  Nelly,"  she  said,  gently ;  "  Nelly,  dear !" 

The  girl  sank  back  in  her  chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands.  But  the  moment  was  gone,  and  Captain  Coppin  had 
lost  his  recruit. 

They  all  breathed  a  deep  sigh.  Those  who  had  not  been 
moved  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed  ;  those  who  were  dried 
their  eyes  and  seemed  ashamed. 

"Thank   you,"  said  Angela  to  the  preacher.      "You  have 


■^r -i^k       ^        « y  ^         *" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    COimiTIONS    OF    MEN.  275 

preached  very  well,  and  I  hope  your  words  will  help  us  on  our 
way,  even  though  it  is  not  quite  your  way." 

"  Then  be  of  our  way.     Cease  from  scoflBng." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  do  not  scoff,  but  I  cannot  join  your  way.  Leave  us 
now,  Mr.  Coppin.  You  are  a  brave  man.  Let  us  reverence 
eourage  and  loyalty.  But  we  will  have  no  more  sermons  in  this 
room.     Good-night," 

She  offered  him  her  hand,  but  he  would  not  take  it ;  and, 
with  a  final  warning  addressed  to  Angela  in  particular  and  the 
room  in  general,  he  went  as  he  had  come,  without  greeting  or 
word  of  thanks. 

"These  Salvation  people,"  said  Rebekah,  "are  all  mad.  K 
people  want  the  way  of  truth,  there's  the  chapel  in  Redman's 
Row,  and  father's  always  in  it  every  Saturday." 

"  AVhat  do  you  say.  Captain  Sorensen  ?"  asked  Angela. 

"The  Church  of  England,"  said  the  captain,  who  had  not 
been  moved  a  whit,  "  says  that  two  sacraments  are  necessary. 
I  find  nothing  about  stools  of  repentance.  Come,  Nelly,  my 
girl,  remember  that  you  are  a  churchwoman." 

"Yet,"  said  Angela,  "what  are  we  to  say  when  a  man  is  so 
brave  and  true,  and  when  he  lives  the  life  ?  Nelly,  dear — girls 
all — I  think  that  religion  should  not  be  a  terror,  but  a  great 
calm  and  a  trust.  Let  us  love  each  other,  and  do  our  work,  and 
take  the  simple  happiness  that  God  gives,  and  have  faith.  What 
more  can  we  do  ?  To-night,  I  think,  we  cannot  dance  or  sing, 
but  I  will  play  to  you." 

She  played  to  them — grand  and  solemn  music — so  that  the 
terror  went  out  of  their  brains,  and  the  hardening  out  of  their 
hearts,  and  the  next  day  all  was  forgotten. 

In  this  manner,  and  this  once,  did  Tom  Coppin  cross  Angela's 
path.  Now  he  will  cross  it  no  more,  because  his  work  is  over. 
If  a  man  lives  on  less  than  the  bare  necessaries,  in  order  to  give 
to  others,  if  he  does  the  work  of  ten  men,  if  he  gives  himself  no 
rest  any  day  in  the  week,  what  happens  to  that  man  when  ty- 
phus seizes  him. 

He  died,  as  he  had  lived,  in  glory,  surrounded  by  Joyful  Jane, 
Hallelujah  Jem,  Happy  Polly,  Thankful  Sarah,  and  the  rest  of 
them.  His  life  has  been  narrated  in  the  "  War  Cry ;"  it  is  spe- 
cially recorded  of  him  that  he  was  always  "  on  the  mountains ;" 


276  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

which  means,  in  their  language,  that  he  was  a  man  of  strong 
faith,  free  from  doubt,  and  of  an  emotional  nature. 

The  extremely  wicked  and  hardened  family,  consisting  of  an 
old  woman  and  half  a  dozen  daughters,  for  whose  souls'  sake  he 
starved  himself,  and  thereby  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  disease, 
have  nearly  all  found  a  refuge  in  the  workhouse,  and  are  as 
hardened  as  ever,  though  not  so  wicked,  because  some  kinds  of 
wickedness  are  not  allowed  in  that  palace  of  virtue.  Therefore 
it  seems  almost  as  if  poor  Tom's  life  had  been  fooled  away. 
According  to  a  philosophy  which  makes  a  great  deal  of  noise 
just  now,  every  life  is  but  a  shadow,  a  dream,  a  mockery,  a 
catching  at  things  impossible,  and  a  waste  of  good  material,  end- 
ing with  the  last  breath.  Then  all  our  lives  are  fooled  away, 
and  why  not  Tom's  as  well  as  the  rest  ?  But  if  the  older  way 
of  thinking  is,  after  all,  right,  then  that  life  can  hardly  have 
been  wasted  which  was  freely  given — even  if  the  gift  was  not 
accepted — ^for  the  advantage  of  others.  Because  the  memory 
and  the  example  remain,  and  every  example — if  boys  and  girls 
could  only  be  taught  this  copy-book  truth — is  like  an  inexhaust- 
ible horn,  always  filled  with  precious  seed. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

BUNKER    AT    BAT. 


Harry  was  thinking  a  good  deal  about  the  old  man's  strange 
story  of  the  houses.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  little  dependence 
to  be  placed  in  the  rambling,  disjointed  statements  made  by  so 
old  a  man ;  but  then  this  statement  was  so  clear  and  precise : 
there  were  so  many  houses — three  for  each  child ;  and  he  knew 
exactly  what  became  of  all  those  houses.  If  the  story  had  been 
told  by  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  it  could  not  have  been  more 
exact  and  detailed.  But  what  were  the  houses  ?  where  were 
they ;  and  how  could  he  prove  that  they  were  his  own  ? 

What  did  Bunker  get  when  he  traded  the  child  away  ? 

Harry  had  always  been  of  opinion  that  he  got  a  sum  of 
money  down,  and  that  he  was  now  ashamed  of  the  transaction 
and  would  fain  have  it  remain  unknown.  This  solution  account- 
ed, or  seemed  to  account,  for  his  great  wrath  and  agitation  when 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  277 

the  subject  was  mentioned.  Out  of  a  mischievous  delight  in  mak- 
ing his  uncle  angry,  Harry  frequently  alluded  to  the  point.  But 
the  story  of  the  houses  was  a  better  solution  still ;  it  accounted 
for  Mr.  Bunker's  agitation  as  well  as  his  wrath.  But  his  wrath 
and  his  terror  appeared  to  Harry  to  corroborate  very  strongly 
the  old  man's  story.  And  the  longer  he  thought  about  it,  the 
more  strongly  he  believed  it.  Harry  asked  his  landlady  wheth- 
er, in  her  opinion,  if  Mr.  Maliphant  made  a  statement,  Ihat  state- 
ment was  to  be  accepted  as  true. 

Mrs.  Bormalack  replied  that  as  he  never  made  any  statement 
except  in  reference  to  events  long  since  things  of  the  past,  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  say  whether  they  were  true  or  not;  that 
his  memory  was  clean  gone  for  things  of  the  present,  so  that  of 
to-day  and  yesterday  he  knew  nothing ;  that  his  thoughts  were 
always  running  on  the  old  days ;  and  that,  when  he  could  be 
heard  right  through  without  dropping  his  voice  at  all,  he  some- 
times told  very  interesting  and  curious  things.  His  board  and 
lodging  were  paid  for  him  by  his  grandson,  a  most  respectable 
gentleman  and  a  dockmaster ;  and,  as  to  the  old  man's  business, 
he  had  none,  and  had  had  none  for  many  years,  being  clean  for- 
gotten, although  he  did  go  every  day  to  his  yard  and  stayed  there 
all  day  long. 

Harry  thought  he  would  pay  him  another  visit.  Perhaps 
something  more  would  be  remembered. 

He  went  there  again  in  the  morning.  The  street  at  the  end 
of  which  was  the  yard  was  as  quiet  as  on  the  Sunday,  the  chil- 
dren being  at  school  and  the  men  at  work.  The  great  gates  were 
closed  and  locked,  but  the  small  side-door  was  unlocked.  When 
he  opened  it  all  the  figure-heads  turned  quickly  and  anxiously 
to  look  at  him :  at  least  Harry  declares  they  did,  and  spiritual- 
ists will  readily  believe  him.  Was  he,  they  asked,  going  to 
take  one  of  them  away  and  stick  it  on  the  bow  of  a  great  ship 
and  send  it  up  and  down  upon  the  face  of  the  ocean  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  world  ?  Ha  !  They  were  made  for  an  active  life : 
they  pined  away  in  this  inactivity :  a  fig  for  the  dangers  of  the 
deep !  From  Saucy  Sal  to  Neptune,  they  all  asked  the  same 
question  in  the  same  hope.  Harry  shook  his  head,  and  they 
sighed  sadly  and  resumed  their  former  positions,  as  they  were, 
eyes  front,  waiting  till  night  should  fall  and  the  old  man  should 
go.  and  they  could  talk  with  each  other. 


278  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  This,"  tliought  Harry, "  is  a  strange  and  ghostly  place." 

You  know  the  cold  and  creepy  feeling  caused  by  the  presence 
— albeit  unseen — of  ghosts;  one  may  feel  it  anywhere  and  at 
all  times :  in  church ;  at  a  theatre ;  in  bed  at  night ;  by  broad 
daylight ;  in  darkness ;  or  in  twilight.  This  was  in  the  sunshine 
of  a  bright  December  day — the  last  days  of  the  year  eighty-one 
were  singularly  bright  and  gracious:  the  place  was  no  dark 
chamber  or  gloomy  vault,  but  a  broad  and  open  yard,  cheerfully 
decorated  with  carved  figure-heads.  Yet  even  here  Harry  expe- 
rienced the  touch  of  ghostliness. 

The  place  was  so  strange  that  it  did  not  astonish  him  at  all 
to  see  the  old  man  suddenly  appear  in  the  door  of  his  doll's 
house,  waving  his  hand  and  smiling  cheerily,  as  one  who  speeds 
the  parting  guest.  The  salutations  were  not  intended  for  Harry, 
because  Mr.  Maliphant  was  not  looking  at  him. 

Presently  he  ceased  gesticulating,  became  suddenly  serious 
(as  happens  to  one  when  his  friend's  back  is  turned  or  he  has 
vanished),  and  returned  to  his  seat  by  the  fire. 

Harry  softly  followed  and  stood  before  him,  waiting  to  be 
recognized. 

The  old  man  looked  up  at  last  and  nodded  his  head. 

"  Been  entertaining  your  friends,  Mr.  Maliphant  ?" 

"  Bob  was  here,  only  Bob.  You  have  just  missed  Bob,"  he 
replied. 

"  That's  a  pity.  Never  mind.  Can  you,  my  ancient,  carry 
your  memory  back  some  twenty  years?  You  did  it,  you  know, 
last  Sunday  for  me." 

"  Twenty  years  ?  Ay — ay — twenty  years.  I  was  only  sixty- 
five  or  so,  then.  It  seems  a  long  time  until  it  is  gone.  Twenty 
years.  Well,  young  man,  twenty  years.  Why,  it  is  only  yes- 
terday." 

"  I  mean  to  the  time  when  Caroline  Coppin,  you  know,  your 
old  friend  Caroline,  was  married." 

"  That  was  twenty  years  before,  and  more  :  when  William  the 
Fourth  died  and  Queen  Victoria,  then  a  young  thing,  came  long 
to  reign  over  us — "  his  voice  sank  and  he  continued  the  rest  of 
his  reminiscence  to  himself. 

"  But  Caroline  Coppin  ?" 

"I'm  telling  you  about  Caroline  Coppin,  only  you  won't, 
listen." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  279 

There  was  notliing  more  to  be  got  out  of  him.  His  recent 
conversation  with  Bob's  spirit  had  muddled  him  for  the  day, 
and  he  mixed  up  Caroline  with  her  mother  or  grandmother.  He, 
relapsed  into  silence,  and  sat  with  his  long  pipe  unfilled  in  his 
hand,  looking  into  the  fireplace,  gone  back  in  imagination  to 
the  past.  As  the  old  man  made  no  sign  of  conversation,  but 
rather  of  a  disposition  to  *'  drop  off  "  for  a  few  minutes,  Harry 
began  to  look  about  the  room.  On  the  table  lay  a  bundle  of  old 
letters:  it  was  as  if  the  living  and  the  dead  had  been  reading 
them  together.  Harry  took  them  up  and  turned  them  over, 
wondering  what  secrets  of  long-ago  were  contained  in  those  yel- 
low papers  with  their  faded  ink.  The  old  man's  eyes  were 
closed :  he  took  no  heed  of  his  visitor,  and  Harry,  standing  at 
the  table,  began  shamelessly  to  read  the  letters. 

They  were  mostly  the  letters  of  a  young  sailor  addressed  to 
one  apparently  a  good  deal  older  than  himself,  for  they  abound- 
ed in  such  appellations  as  "  my  ancient,"  "  venerable,"  "  old 
salt,"  and  so  forth ;  but  the  young  man  did  not  regard  his  cor- 
respondent with  the  awe  which  age  should  inspire,  but  rather  as 
a  gay  and  rollicking  spirit  who  would  sympathize  with  the  high- 
jinks  of  younger  men  even  if  he  no  longer  shared  in  them,  and 
who  was  an  old  and  still  delighted  treader  of  those  flowery  paths 
which  are  said  by  moralists  to  be  planted  with  the  frequent  pit- 
fall and  the  crafty  trap.  The  old  man,  thought  Harry,  must 
have  been  an  admirable  guide  to  youth,  and  the  disciple  was  apt 
to  learn.  Sometimes  the  letters  were  signed  Bob ;  sometimes 
R.  Coppin  ;  sometimes  R.  C.  Harry  therefore  surmised  that  the 
writer  was  no  other  than  his  own  Uncle  Bob,  whose  ghost  he 
had  just  missed. 

Bob  was  an  officer  on  board  of  an  East-Indiaman ;  but  he 
spoke  not  of  such  commonplace  matters  as  the  face  of  the  ocean 
or  the  voice  of  the  tempest :  he  only  wrote  from  port,  and  told 
what  things  he  had  seen  and  done  on  shore,  and  what  he  had 
consumed  in  ardent  drink.  The  letters  were  brief,  which  seemed 
as  well,  because  if  literary  skill  had  been  present  to  dress  up  ef- 
fectively the  subjects  treated,  a  literary  monument  might  have 
been  erected  the  like  of  which  the  world  has  never  seen.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  most  curious  and  remarkable  circumstance,  that  even 
in  realistic  France  the  true  course  of  the  Prodigal  has  never  been 
faithfully  described.  Now,  the  great  advantage  formerly  pos- 
T 


280  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

sessed  by  the  sailor — an  advantage  cruelly  curtailed  by  the  es- 
tablishment of  homes  and  the  introduction  of  temperance — 
was  that  he  could  be,  and  was,  a  prodigal  at  the  end  of  every 
cruise,  while  the  voyage  itself  was  an  agreeable  interval  provided 
for  recovery,  recollection,  and  anticipation. 

"  Bob — Uncle  Bob — was  a  flyer,"  said  Harry.  "  One  should 
be  proud  of  such  an  uncle.  With  Bob,  and  Bunker,  and  the 
bankrupt  builder,  I  am  indeed  provided." 

There  seemed  nothing  in  the  letters  which  bore  upon  the 
question  of  his  mother's  property,  and  he  was  going  to  put 
them  down  again,  when  he  lighted  upon  a  torn  fragment  on 
which  he  saw,  in  Bob's  big  handwriting,  the  name  of  his  Cousin 
Josephus. 

"  Josephus,  my  cousin,  that  he  will " — here  a  break  in  the  con- 
tinuity— "  nd  the  safe  the  bundle  " — another  break — "  for  a  lark. 
Josephus  is  a  Square-toes.  I  hate  a  man  who  won't  drink.  He 
will" — another  break — "if  he  looks  there.  Your  health  and 
song,  shipmet.     R.  C" 

He  read  this  fragment  two  or  three  times  over.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  Clearly,  nothing  to  himself.  *'  Josephus  is  a  Square- 
toes."  Very  likely ;  the  prodigal  Bob  was  not ;  quite  the  con- 
trary ;  he  was  a  young  man  of  extremely  mercurial  temperament. 
"  Josephus,  my  cousin,  that  he  will  .  .  .  nd  the  safe  the  bun- 
dle." He  put  down  the  paper,  and  then,  without  waking  the 
old  man,  he  softly  left  the  room  and  the  place,  shutting  the 
door  behind  him.  And  then  he  forgot  immediately  the  torn 
letter  and  its  allusion  to  Josephus.  He  thought,  next,  that  he 
would  go  to  Bunker  and  put  the  question  directly  to  him.  The 
man  might  be  terrified ;  might  show  confusion ;  might  tell  lies. 
That  would  matter  little.  But,  if  he  showed  his  hand  too  soon. 
Bunker  might  be  put  upon  his  guard.  Well,  that  mattered  lit- 
tle. What  Harry  hoped  was  rather  to  get  at  the  truth  than  to 
recover  his  houses. 

"  I  want,"  he  said,  finding  his  uncle  at  home  and  engaged  in 
his  oflBce,  drawing  up  bills — "  I  want  a  few  words  of  serious  talk 
with  you,  my  uncle." 

"  I  am  busy  ;  go  away.  I  never  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  hate 
the  very  sight  of  your  face." 

He  looked,  indeed,  as  if  hs  did,  if  a  flushing  cheek  and  an 
angry  glare  of  the  eyes  are  any  sign. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN.  281 

"  I  am  not  going  away  until  you  have  answered  my  questions. 
As  to  your  hatred  or  your  affection,  that  does  not  concern  me  at 
all.     Now,  will  you  listen,  or  shall  I  wait  ?" 

"  To  get  rid  of  you  the  sooner,"  Bunker  growled, "  I  will  listen 
now.     If  I  was  twenty  years  younger,  I'd  kick  you  out." 

*'  If  you  were  twenty  years  younger,  there  might,  it  is  true, 
be  a  fight.     Now  then." 

"  Well,  get  along.     My  time  is  valuable." 

"  I  have  several  times  asked  you  what  you  got  for  me  when 
you  sold  me.  You  have  on  those  occasions  allowed  yourself  to 
fall  into  a  rage  which  is  really  dangerous  in  so  stout  a  man.  I 
am  not  going  to  ask  you  that  question  any  more." 

Mr.  Bunker  looked  relieved. 

"  Because,  you  see,  I  know  now  Avhat  you  got." 

Mr.  Bunker  turned  very  pale. 

"  What  do  you  know  ?" 

"  I  know  exactly  what  you  got  when  I  was  taken  away." 

Mr.  Bunker  said  nothing.  Yet  there  was  in  his  eyes  a  look 
as  if  a  critical  moment,  long  expected,  had  at  last  arrived.  And 
he  waited. 

"  When  my  mother  died,  and  you  became  my  guardian,  I  was 
not  left  penniless." 

"  It  is  a  lie.     You  were." 

"  If  I  had  been,  you  would  have  handed  me  over  to  your 
brother-in-law,  Coppin  the  builder.     But  I  had  property." 

"  You  had  nothing." 

"  I  had  three  houses.  One  of  those  houses  is,  I  believe,  that 
which  has  been  rented — from  you — by  Miss  Kennedy.  I  do 
not  know  yet  where  the  other  two  are,  but  I  shall  find  out." 

"  You  are  on  a  wrong  tack,"  said  his  uncle.  "  Now  I  know 
why  you  wouldn't  go  away ;  you  came  here  to  ferret  and  fish, 
did  you  ?  You  thought  you  were  entitled  to  property,  did  you  ? 
Ho !  You're  a  nice  sort  o'  chap  to  have  house  property,  ain't 
you  ?     Ha !     Ho  !" 

But  his  laughter  was  not  mirthful. 

"  Let  me  point  out  to  you,"  Harry  went  on,  gravely,  "  what  it 
is  you  have  done.  The  child  whom  you  kept  for  a  year  or  two 
was  heir  to  a  small  estate  bringing  in,  I  suppose,  about  eighty 
or  a  hundred  pounds  a  year.  We  will  say  that  you  were  enti- 
tled to  keep  that  money  in  return  for  his  support.     But  when 


282  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

that  child  was  carried  away  and  adopted,  you  said  nothing  about 
the  property.  You  kept  it  for  yourself,  and  you  have  received 
the  rents  year  after  year  as  if  the  houses  belonged  to  you. 
Shall  I  go  on,  and  tell  you  what  judges  and  lawyers  and  police 
people  call  this  sort  of  conduct  I" 

"  Where's  your  proofs  ?"  asked  the  other,  his  face  betraying 
his  emotion.     "  Where's  your  proofs  ?" 

"  I  have  none  yet.     I  am  going  to  search  for  those  proofs." 

*'  You  can't  find  them.  There  are  none.  Now,  young  man, 
you've  had  your  say,  and  you  can  go.  Do  you  hear?  You 
can  go." 

"  You  deny,  then,  that  the  houses  were  mine  ?" 

"  If  you'd  come  to  me  meek  and  lowly,  as  is  your  humble 
station  in  life,  I  would  ha'  told  you  the  history  of  those  houses. 
Yes,  your  mother  had  them,  same  as  her  brothers  and  her  sister. 
Where  are  they  now  ?  I've  got  'em ;  I've  got  'em  all.  How 
did  I  get  'em  ?  By  lawful  and  honorable  purchase.  I  bought 
'em.  Do  you  want  proofs  ?  You  sha'n't  have  any  proofs.  If 
you'd  behaved  humble,  you  should  ha'  seen  those  proofs.  Now 
you  may  go  away  and  do  your  worst.  Do  you  hear  ?  You  may 
do  your  worst." 

lie  shook  his  fist  in  Harry's  face :  his  words  were  brave ;  but 
his  voice  was  shaky  and  his  lips  were  trembling. 

"  I  don't  believe  you,"  said  Harry ;  "  I  am  certain  that  you 
did  not  buy  my  houses.  There  was  no  one  left  to  care  for  my 
interests,  and  you  took  those  houses." 

"  This  is  the  reward,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  "  for  nussin'  of  this 
child  for  nigh  upon  three  years !  Who  would  take  an  orphan 
into  his  bosom  ?  But  it  was  right,  and  I'd  do  it  again.  Yes  ; 
I'd  do  it  again." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you,"  the  ungrateful  nephew  replied,  "  espe- 
cially if  that  other  orphan  had  three  substantial  houses,  and 
there  was  nobody  but  yourself  to  look  after  him." 

"  As  for  your  proofs,  go  and  look  for  them.  When  you've 
found  'em,  bring  'em  to  me — you  and  your  proofs  !" 

Harry  laughed. 

"  I  shall  find  them,"  he  said,  "  but  I  don't  know  where  or 
when.  Meantime,  you  will  go  on,  as  you  do  now,  thinking  con- 
tinually that  they  may  be  found ;  you  won't  be  able  to  sleep  at 
night ;   you  will  dream  of  police  courts ;   you  will  let  your 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  283 

thoughts  run  on  handcuffs ;  you  will  take  to  drink ;  you  will 
have  no  pleasure  in  your  life ;  you  will  hasten  your  end ;  you 
will — "  here  he  desisted,  for  his  uncle,  dropping  into  his  chair, 
looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  swoon.  "  Remember — I  shall  find 
these  proofs — some  day.  A  hundred  a  year  for  twenty  years  is 
two  thousand  pounds ;  that's  a  large  sum  to  hand  over ;  and 
then  there  is  the  interest.  Upon  my  word,  my  uncle,  you  will 
have  to  begin  the  world  again." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MR.     B  U  N  K  E  r's     LETTER. 


Two  days  after  this  Angela  received  a  very  wonderful  letter. 
It  was  addressed  to  Miss  Messenger,  and  was  signed  Benjamin 
Bunker.     It  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Honored  Miss, — As  an  old  and  humble  friend  of  your  late  lamented 
grandfather,  whose  loss  I  can  never  recover  from,  nor  has  it  yet  been  made 
up  to  me  in  any  way  [Angela  laughed],  I  venture  to  address  you  the  fol- 
lowing lines  in  secrecy  and  confidence,  knowing  that  what  ought  not  to  be 
concealed  should  be  told  in  the  proper  quarter,  which  is  you,  miss,  and  none 
other. 

"  Evei7body  in  these  parts  knows  me ;  everybody  knows  Bunker,  your 
grandfather's  right-hand  man;  wherefore,  what  I  write  is  no  other  design 
than  to  warn  you  and  to  put  you  on  your  guard  against  the  deceitful  and 
such  as  would  abuse  your  confidingness,  being  but  young  as  yet  and  therefore 
ignorant  of  dodges,  and  easy  come  round. 

"  You  have  been  come  round,  and  that  in  such  a  shameful  way  that  I  can- 
not bear  myself  any  longer,  and  must  take  the  liberty  of  telling  you  so,  being 
an  old  and  confidential  adviser ;  your  grandfather  used  to  say  that  even  the 
Brewery  wouldn't  be  where  it  is  now,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me,  not  to  speak 
of  the  house  property  which  is  now  a  profitable  investment,  with  rents  regu- 
lar and  respectable  tenants,  whereas  before  I  took  it  in  hand  the  houses  was 
out  of  repair,  the  rents  backward,  and  the  tenants  too  often  such  as  would 
bring  discredit  on  any  estate.  I  therefore  beg  to  warn  you  against  two  per- 
sons— young,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  which  makes  it  worse,  because  it  is  only  the 
old  who  should  be  thus  depraved — whom  you  have  benefited  and  they  are 
unworthy  of  it. 

"  One  of  them  is  a  certain  Miss  Kennedy,  a  dressmaker,  at  least  she  says 
BO.  The  other  is — I  write  this  with  the  blush  of  indignant  shame — my  own 
nephew,  whose  name  is  Harry  Goslett." 


284  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"Bunker,  Bnnker!"  murmured  Angela,  •'  is  this  fair  to  your 
own  tenant  and  your  own  nephew  ?" 

"As  regards  ray  nephew,  you  have  never  inquired  about  him,  and  it  was 
out  of  your  kindness  and  a  desire  to  marlc  your  sense  of  me  that  you  gave 
him  a  berth  in  the  Brewery.  That  young  man,  miss,  who  calls  himself  a 
cabinet-maker  and  doesn't  seem  to  know  that  a  joiner  is  one  thing  and  a 
cabinet-maker  another,  now  does  the  joinery  for  the  Brewery,  and  makes,  I 
am  told,  as  much  as  two  pound  a  week,  being  a  handy  chap.  If  you  had 
asked  me  first,  I  should  have  told  you  that  he  is  a  lazy,  indolent,  free-and- 
easy,  disrespectful,  dangerous  young  man.  He  has  been  no  one  knows  where ; 
no  one  knows  where  lie  has  worked,  except  that  he  talks  about  America ;  lie 
looks  like  a  betting  man ;  I  believe  he  drinks  of  a  night ;  he  has  been  living 
like  a  gentleman,  doing  no  work,  and  I  believe,  though  up  to  the  present  I 
haven't'found  out  for  certain,  that  he  has  been  in  trouble  and  knows  what  is 
a  convict's  feeling  when  the  key  is  turned.  Because  he  is  such  a  disgrace  to 
the  family,  for  his  mother  was  a  Coppin  and  came  of  a  respectable  White- 
chapel  stock,  though  not  equal  to  the  Bunkers  or  the  Messengers,  I  went  to 
him  and  offered  hira  five-and-twenty  pound  out  of  my  own  slender  stock  to 
go  away  and  never  come  back  any  more  to  disgrace  us.  Five-and-twenty 
pound  I  would  have  given  to  save  Messenger's  Brewery  from  such  a  villain." 

"  Bunker,  Bunker,  Bunker — "  murmured  Angela  again. 

"  But  he  wouldn't  take  the  money.  You  thought  to  do  me  a  good  turn, 
and  you  done  yourself  a  bad  one.  I  don't  know  what  mischief  he  has  al- 
ready done  in  the  Brewery,  and  perhaps  he  is  watched ;  if  so  it  may  not  yet 
be  too  late.  S6nd  him  about  his  business.  Make  him  go.  You  can  then 
consider  some  other  way  of  making  it  up  to  me  for  all  that  work  for  your 
grandfather  whereof  you  now  sweetly  reap  the  benefit. 

"  The  other  case,  miss,  is  that  of  the  young  woman,  Kennedy  by  name,  the 
dressmaker." 

"  What  of  her,  Bunker  ?"  asked  Angela. 

"  I  hear  that  you  are  giving  her  your  custom,  not  knowing,  maybe,  the  kind 
of  woman  she  is  nor  the  mischief  she's  about.  She's  got  a  house  of  mine  ou 
false  pretences." 

"  Eeally,  Mr.  Bunker,"  said  Angela,  "  you  are  too  bad." 

"  Otherwise  I  wouldn't  let  her  have  it,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  out  she 
goes.  She  has  persuaded  a  lot  of  foolish  girls,  once  contented  with  their 
lowly  lot  and  thankful  for  their  wages  and  their  work,  nor  inclined  to  grum- 
ble when  hours  was  long  and  work  had  to  be  done.  She  has  promised  them 
the  profits,  and  meantime  she  feeds  them  up  so  that  their  eyes  swell  out  with 
fatness  ;  she  gives  them  short  hours,  and  sends  them  out  into  the  garden  to 
play  games.  Games,  if  you  please,  and  short  hours  for  such  as  them !  In 
the  evening  it's  worse :  for  then  they  play  and  sing  and  dance,  having  young 
men  to  caper  about  with  them,  and  you  can  hear  them  half  a  mile  up  the 


ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  286 

Mile  End  Road,  so  that  it  is  a  scandal  to  Stepney  Green,  once  respectable ; 
and  the  police  will  probably  interfere.  Where  she  came  from,  who  she  was, 
how  she  got  her  money,  we  don't  know.  Some  say  one  thing,  some  say  an- 
other;  whatever  they  say  it's  a  bad  way.  The  worst  is  that  when  she  smash- 
es, as  she  must,  because  no  ladies  who  respect  virtue  and  humble-mindedness 
with  contentment  will  employ  her,  is  that  the  other  dressmakers  and  shops 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her  girls,  so  that  what  will  happen  to  them  no 
one  can  tell. 

"I  thought  it  right,  miss,  to  give  you  tliis  information,  because  it  is  certain 
that  if  you  withdraw  your  support  from  these  two  undeserving  people  they 
must  go  away,  which  as  a  respectable  Stepney  man  I  unite  in  wishing  may 
happen  before  long,  when  the  girls  shall  go  on  again  as  before,  and  leave 
dancing  and  singing  to  the  rich,  and  be  humble  and  contented  with  the  crust 
to  which  they  were  born. 

"  And  as  regards  the  kindness  you  were  meditating  towards  me,  miss,  I 
think  I  may  say  that  none  of  my  nephews — one  of  whom  is  a  Radical  and 
another  a  captain  in  the  Salvation  Army — deserve  to  receive  any  benefits  at 
your  hands,  least  of  all  that  villain  who  works  in  the  Brewery.  Wherefore, 
it  may  take  the  form  of  something  for  myself.  And  it  is  not  for  me  to  tell 
you,  miss,  how  much  that  something  ought  to  be  for  a  man  in  years,  of  re- 
spectable station,  and  once  the  confidential  friend  of  your  grandfather,  and 
prevented  thereby  from  saving  as  much  as  he  had  otherwise  a  right  to  expect. 
"  I  remain,  miss,  your  humble  servant, 

"  Benjamin  Bunker." 

"  This,"  said  Angela,  "  is  a  very  impudent  letter.  How  shall 
we  bring  him  to  book  for  it  ?" 

AA^hen  she  learned,  as  she  speedily  did,  the  great  mystery 
about  the  houses  and  the  Coppin  property,  she  began  to  under- 
stand the  letter,  the  contents  of  which  she  kept  to  herself  for 
the  present.  I'his  was,  perhaps,  for  the  theory  implied  rather 
than  stated  in  the  letter,  that  both  should  be  ordered  to  go  ;  for 
if  only  one  was  turned  out  of  work,  both  would  stay.  This  the- 
ory made  her  smile  and  blush,  and  pleased  her,  insomuch  that 
she  was  not  so  angry  as  she  might  otherwise  have  been,  and 
should  have  been,  with  the  crafty  double-dealer  who  wrote  the 
letter. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Bunker  had  business  on  Stepney  Green 
that  morning,  while  Angela  was  reading  the  letter.  She  saw 
him  from  the  window,  and  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of 
inviting  him  to  step  in.  He  came,  not  in  the  least  abashed,  and 
with  no  telltale  signal  of  confusion  in  his  rosy  cheeks. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Bunker,"  said  Angela.  "  Come  in ;  I  want  five 
minutes'  talk  with  you.    This  way,  please,  where  we  can  be  alone." 


286  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP   MEN. 

She  led  him  into  the  refectory,  because  Daniel  Fagg  was  in 
the  drawing-room. 

"I  have  been  thinking,  Mr.  Bunker,"  she  said,  "how  very, 
very  fortunate  I  was  to  fall  into  such  hands  as  yours  when  I 
came  to  Stepney." 

"  You  were,  miss,  you  were.  That  was  a  fall,  as  one  may  say, 
which  meant  a  rise." 

"  I  am  sure  it  did,  Mr.  Bunker.  You  do  not  often  come  to 
see  us,  but  I  hope  you  approve  of  our  plans." 

"  As  for  that,"  he  replied,  "  it  isn't  my  business.  People 
come  to  me,  and  I  put  them  in  the  way.  How  they  run  in  the 
way  is  not  my  business  to  inquire.  As  for  you  and  your  girls, 
now,  if  you  make  the  concern  go,  you  may  thank  me  for  it. 
If  you  don't,  why,  it  isn't  my  fault." 

"  Very  well  put,  indeed,  Mr.  Bunker.  In  six  months  the  first 
year,  for  which  I  prepaid  the  rent,  will  come  to  an  end." 

"  It  will." 

"  We  shall  then  have  to  consider  a  fresh  agreement.  I  was 
thinking,  Mr.  Bunker,  that,  seeing  how  good  a  man  you  are,  and 
how  generous,  you  would  like  to  make  your  rent,  like  the  wages 
of  the  girls,  depend  upon  the  profits  of  the  business." 

"  What  ?"  he  asked. 

Angela  repeated  her  proposition. 

He  rose,  buttoned  his  coat,  and  put  on  his  hat. 

"Rent  depend  on  profits?  Is  the  girl  mad?  Rent  comes 
first  and  before  anything  else.  Rent  is  even  before  taxes ;  and 
as  for  rates — but  you're  mad.  My  rent  depend  on  profits? 
Rent,  miss,  is  sacred.     Remember  that." 

"  Oh !"  said  Angela. 

"And  what  is  more,"  he  added,  "people  who  don't  pay  up 
get  sold  up.  It's  a  Christian's  duty  to  sell  'em  up.  I  couldn't 
let  off  even  my  own  nephews." 

"  As  for  one  of  them,  you  would  like  to  sell  him  up,  would 
you  not,  Mr.  Bunker  ?" 

"  I  would,"  he  replied,  truthfully ;  "  I  should  like  to  see  him 
out  of  the  place.  You  know  what  I  told  you  when  you  came. 
Have  nothing  to  do,  I  said,  with  that  chap.  Keep  him  at  arm's- 
length,  for  he  is  a  bad  lot.  Now  you  see  what  he  has  brought 
you  to.  Singin',  dancin',  playin',  laughin',  every  night ;  respect- 
able ladies  driven  away  from  your  shop ;  many  actually  kept 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  287 

out  of  the  place ;  expenses  doubled  ;  all  through  him.  What's 
more — bankruptcy  ahead !  Don't  I  know  that  not  a  lady  in 
Stepney  or  Mile  End  comes  here  ?  Don't  I  know  that  you  de- 
pend upon  your  West  End  connection  ?  When  that  goes,  where 
are  you  ?  And  all  for  the  sake  of  that  pink-and-white  chap ! 
Well,  when  one  goes,  the  other'U  go  too,  I  suppose.  Rent  out 
of  profits,  indeed !  No,  no,  miss,  it'll  do  you  good  to  learn  a 
little  business  even  if  you  do  get  sold  up." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Bunker.  Do  you  know,  I  do  not  think  you 
will  ever  have  the  pleasure  of  selling  me  up  ?" 

She  laughed  so  merrily  that  he  felt  he  hated  her  quite  as 
much  as  he  hated  his  nephew.  Why,  six  months  before,  no  one 
laughed  in  Stepney  at  all :  and  to  think  that  any  one  should 
laugh  at  him  would  have  been  an  impossible  dream. 

"  You  laugh,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  and  yet  you  are  on  the  brink 
of  ruin.  Where's  your  character  ?  Wrapped  up  with  the  char- 
acter of  that  young  man.  Where's  your  business  ?  Drove  away — 
by  him.  You  laugh.  Ah !  I'm  sorry  for  you,  miss,  because  I 
thought  at  one  time  you  were  a  plain-spoken,  honest  sort  of 
young  woman :  if  I'd  ha'  known  that  you  meant  to  use  my 
house — mine — the  friend  of  all  the  respectable  tradesmen — for 
such  wicked  fads  as  now  disgrace  it,  I'd  never  ha'  taken  you  for 
a  tenant." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  would,  Mr.  Bunker."  She  laughed  again,  but 
not  merrily  this  time.  "  Oh,  yes,  you  would  !  You  forget  the 
fittings  and  the  furniture,  the  rent  paid  in  advance,  and  the  half- 
crown  an  hour  for  advice.  Is  there  anything,  I  should  like  to 
know,  that  you  would  not  do  for  half  a  crown  an  hour  ?" 

He  made  no  reply. 

"  Why,  again,  do  you  hate  your  nephew  ?  What  injury  has 
he  done  you,  that  you  should  bear  him  such  ill-will  ?" 

This,  which  was  not  altogether  a  shot  in  the  dark,  went  straight 
to  Mr.  Bunker's  heart.  He  said  nothing,  but  put  on  his  hat  and 
rushed  out.  Clearly,  these  two  between  them  would  drive  him 
mad. 


288  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

PROOFS    IN    PRINT. 

"  It  is  quite  finished  now,"  said  Daniel  Fagg,  blotting  the  last 
page. 

When  he  began  to  live  with  the  dressmakers,  Angela,  desir- 
ing to  find  him  some  employment,  had  suggested  that  he  should 
rewrite  the  whole  of  his  book,  and  redraw  the  illustrations.  It 
was  not  a  large  book,  even  though  it  was  stuffed  and  padded 
with  readings  of  inscriptions  and  tablets.  An  ordinary  writer 
would  have  made  a  fair  copy  in  a  fortnight.  But  so  careful  an 
author  as  Daniel,  so  anxious  to  present  his  work  perfect  and  un- 
assailable, and  so  slow  in  the  mere  mechanical  art  of  writing, 
wanted  much  more  than  a  fortnight.  His  handwriting,  like  his 
Hebrew,  had  been  acquired  comparatively  late  in  life ;  it  was, 
therefore,  rather  ponderous ;  and  he  had  never  learned  the  art 
of  writing  half  a  word  and  leaving  the  other  half  to  be  guessed. 
Then  there  were  the  Hebrew  words,  which  took  a  great  deal  of 
time  to  get  right ;  and  the  equilateral  triangles,  which  also 
caused  a  considerable  amount  of  trouble.  So  that  it  was  a  good 
six  weeks  before  Daniel  was  ready  with  a  fair  copy  of  his  man- 
uscript. He  was  almost  as  happy  in  making  this  transcript  as 
he  had  been  with  the  original  document,  perhaps  more  so,  be- 
cause he  was  now  able  to  consider  his  great  discovery  as  a  whole, 
to  regard  it  as  an  architect  may  regard  his  finished  work,  and  to 
touch  up,  ornament,  and  improve  his  translations. 

"  It  is  quite  complete,"  he  repeated,  laying  the  last  page  in 
its  place  and  tapping  the  roll  affectionately.  "  Here  you  will 
find  the  full  account  of  the  two  tables  of  stone  and  a  translation 
of  their  contents,  with  notes.  What  will  they  say  to  that,  I 
wonder  ?" 

"  But  how,"  asked  Angela — "  how  did  the  tables  of  stone  get 
to  the  British  Museum  ?" 

Mr.  Fagg  considered  his  reply  for  a  while. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  289 

"  There  are  two  ways,"  he  said,  "  and  I  don't  know  which  is 
the  right  one.  For  either  they  were  brought  here  when  we,  the 
descendants  of  Ephraim,  as  everybody  knows,  landed  in  England, 
or  else  they  were  brought  here  by  Phoenician  traders  after  the 
Captivity.  However,  there  they  are,  as  anybody  may  see  with 
the  help  of  my  discovery.  As  for  the  scholars,  how  can  they 
see  anything  ?  Wilful  ignorance,  miss,  is  their  sin  :  pride  and 
wilful  ignorance.  You're  ignorant,  because  you  are  a  woman, 
and  it  is  your  nature  too.     But  not  to  love  darkness !" 

"  No,  Mr.  Fagg.     I  lament  my  ignorance." 

"  Then  there's  the  story  of  David  and  Jonathan,  and  the  his- 
tory of  Jezebel  and  her  great  wickedness,  and  the  life  and  death 
of  King  Jehoshaphat,  and  a  great  deal  more.  Now  read  for  the 
first  time  from  the  arrow-headed  character — so  called — by  Dan- 
iel Fagg,  self-taught  scholar,  once  shoemaker  in  the  colony  of 
Victoria,  Discoverer  of  the  Primitive  Alphabet  and  the  Univer- 
sal Language." 

"  That  is  indeed  a  glorious  thing  to  be  able  to  say,  Mr.  Fagg." 

"  But  now  it  is  written,  what  next  ?" 

"  You  mean,  how  can  you  get  it  printed  ?" 

"  Of  course,  that's  what  I  mean,"  he  replied,  almost  angrily. 
"  There's  the  book,  and  no  one  will  look  at  it.  Haven't  I  tried 
all  the  publishers?     What  else  should  I  mean?" 

The  old  disappointment,  kept  under  and  forgotten  during  the 
excitement  of  rewriting  the  book,  was  making  itself  felt  again. 
How  much  further  forward  was  he  ?  The  work  had  been  fin- 
ished long  before ;  all  he  had  done  during  the  last  six  weeks 
was  to  write  it  afresh. 

"  Fvc  only  been  wasting  my  time  here,"  he  said,  querulously. 
"  I  ought  to  have  been  up  and  about.  I  might  have  gone  to 
Oxford,  where,  I'm  told,  there  are  young  men  who  would  per- 
haps give  me  a  hearing :  or  there's  Cambridge,  where  they  have 
never  heard  of  my  discovery.  You've  made  me  waste  six  weeks 
and  more." 

Angela  forebore  to  ask  him  how  he  would  have  lived  during 
those  six  weeks.     She  replied,  softly  : 

"  Nay,  Mr.  Fagg :  not  wasted  the  time.  You  were  overworked : 
you  wanted  rest.  Besides,  I  think  we  may  find  a  plan  to  get  this 
book  published." 

"  What  plan  ?     How  ?" 
13 


290  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"K  you  would  trust  the  manuscript  to  my  hands  —  yes,  I 
know  well  how  precious  it  is,  and  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  would 
be  to  lose  it :  but  you  have  a  copy,  and  you  can  keep  that  while 
I  take  the  other." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  it  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  yet.     To  one  of  the  publishers,  I  suppose." 

He  groaned. 

"I  have  been  to  every  one  of  them.  Not  a  publisher  in 
London  but  has  had  the  offer  of  my  book.  They  won't  have 
it,  any  of  them.  Oh !  it's  their  loss,  I  know  that — but  what 
is  it  to  me?" 

"  Will  you  let  me  try  ?  Will  you  trust  me  with  the  manu- 
script ?" 

He  reluctantly  and  jealously  allowed  her  to  take  away  the 
precious  document.  When  it  was  out  of  his  hands,  he  tried  to 
amuse  himself  with  the  first  copy,  but  found  no  pleasure  in  it  at 
all,  because  he  thought  continually  of  the  scorn  which  had  been 
hurled  upon  him  and  his  discovery.  He  saw  the  heads  of  de- 
partments, one  after  another,  receiving  him  politely,  and  lis- 
tening to  what  he  had  to  say :  he  saw  them  turning  impatient, 
interrupting  him,  declining  to  hear  any  more,  referring  him  to 
certain  books  in  which  he  would  find  a  refutation  of  his  theo- 
ries, and  finally  refusing  even  to  see  him.  Never  was  discoverer 
treated  with  such  contempt.  Even  the  attendants  at  the  mu- 
seum took  their  cue  from  the  chiefs,  and  received  his  advances 
with  scorn.  Should  they  waste  their  time — the  illiterate — in 
listening  unprofitably  to  one  whom  the  learned  Dr.  Birch  and 
the  profound  Mr.  Newton  had  sent  away  with  contempt  ?  Bet- 
ter sit  still  in  the  spacious  halls,  bearing  the  wand  of  office,  and 
allowing  the  eyelids  to  fall  gently,  and  the  mind  to  wander  away 
among  pleasant  pastures  where  there  was  drink  with  tobacco. 
Then  there  were  the  people  who  had  subscribed.  Some  of  them 
were  gentlemen  connected  with  Australia :  they  had  tossed  him 
the  twelve  and  sixpence  in  the  middle  of  his  talk,  as  if  to  get 
rid  of  him ;  some  of  them  had  subscribed  in  pity  for  his  pov- 
erty ;  some  persuaded  by  his  importunity.  There  was  not  one 
among  them  all,  he  reflected  with  humiliation,  who  subscribed 
because  he  believed.  Stay,  there  was  this  ignorant  dressmaker : 
one  convert  out  of  all  to  whom  he  had  explained  his  discovery ! 
One — only  one !     There  have  been  many  religious  enthusiasts, 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  291 

prophets,  preachers,  holders  of  strange  doctrines,  who  have  con- 
verted women  so  that  they  believed  them  inspired  of  heaven : 
yet  these  men  made  other  converts,  whereas  he,  Fagg,  had  but 
this  one,  and  she  was  not  in  love  with  him,  because  he  was  old 
now,  and  no  longer  comely.  This  was  a  grand  outcome  of  that 
Australian  enthusiasm ! 

That  day  Mr.  Fagg  was  disagreeable,  considered  as  a  com- 
panion. He  found  fault  with  the  dinner,  which  was  excellent, 
as  usual ;  he  complained  that  the  beer  was  thick  and  flat,  where- 
as it  sparkled  like  champagne  and  was  as  clear  as  a  bell ;  he  was 
cross  in  the  afternoon,  and  wanted  to  prevent  the*  child  who  sat 
in  the  drawing-room  from  practising  her  music ;  and  he  went 
out  for  his  walk  in  a  dark  and  gloomy  mood. 

Angela  let  him  have  his  querulous  way,  unrebuked,  because 
she  knew  the  cause  of  it.  He  was  suffering  from  that  dreadful 
hopeless  anger  which  falls  upon  the  unappreciated.  He  was 
like  some  poet  who  brings  out  volume  after  volume,  yet  meets 
with  no  admirers  and  remains  obscure :  he  was  like  some  novel- 
ist who  has  produced  a  masterpiece — which  nobody  will  read ; 
or  like  some  actor,  the  foremost  of  his  age — who  depletes  the 
house ;  or  like  a  dramatist  from  whose  acted  works  the  public 
fly ;  or  like  a  man  who  invents  something  which  is  to  revolu- 
tionize things,  only  people  prefer  their  old  way.  Good  heavens ! 
is  it  impossible  to  move  this  vast  inert  mass  called  the  world  ? 
Why,  there  are  men  who  can  move  it  at  their  will,  even  by  a 
touch  of  their  little  finger;  and  the  unappreciated,  with  all 
their  efforts,  cannot  make  the  slightest  impression.  This,  from 
time  to  time,  makes  them  go  mad,  and  at  such  periods  they  arc 
unpleasant  persons  to  meet.  They  growl  at  their  clubs,  they 
quarrel  with  their  blood-relations,  they  snarl  at  their  wives,  they 
grumble  at  their  servants.     Daniel  was  having  such  a  fit. 

It  lasted  two  whole  days,  and  on  the  second  Rebekah  took 
upon  herself  to  lead  him  aside  and  reprove  him  for  the  sin  of 
ingratitude,  because  it  was  very  well  known  to  all  that  the  man 
would  have  gone  to  the  workhouse  but  for  Miss  Kennedy's  time- 
ly help.  She  asked  him  sternly  what  he  had  done  to  merit  that 
daily  bread  which  was  given  him  without  a  murmur ;  and  what 
excuse  he  could  make  for  his  bad  temper  and  his  rudeness  tow- 
ards the  Avoman  who  had  done  so  much  for  him. 

He  had  no  excuse  to  make,  because  Rebekah  would  not  have 


292  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

understood  the  true  one.  Wherefore  she  bade  him  repent  and 
reform,  or  he  would  hear  more  from  her.  This  threat  frighten- 
ed him,  though  it  could  not  remove  his  irritation  and  depression. 
But,  on  the  third  day,  sunshine  and  good  cheer  and  hope — new 
hope  and  enthusiasm — returned  to  him. 

For  Miss  Kennedy  announced  to  him,  with  many  smiles,  that 
a  publisher  had  accepted  his  manuscript,  and  that  it  had  already 
been  sent  to  the  printers. 

*'  He  will  publish  it  for  you,"  she  said,  "  at  no  cost  to  your- 
self. He  will  give  you  as  many  copies  as  you  wish  to  have,  for 
presentation  among  your  friends  and  among  your  subscribers — 
you  will  like  to  send  copies  to  your  subscribers,  will  you  not?" 

He  rubbed  his  hands  and  laughed  aloud. 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  will  prove  that  I  did  not  eat  up  the  sub- 
scriptions." 

*'  Of  course."  Angela  smiled,  but  did  not  contradict  the  prop- 
osition. "  Of  course,  Mr.  Fagg ;  and  if  ever  there  was  any  doubt 
in  your  own  mind  about  that  money,  it  is  now  removed,  because 
the  book  will  be  in  their  hands.  And  all  they  wanted  was  the 
book." 

"  Yes — yes.  And  no  one  will  be  able  to  say — ^you  know 
what— will  they  ?" 

"  No,  no.     You  will  have  proofs  sent  to  you — " 

"  Proofs  ?"  he  murmured.  "  Proofs  in  print !  Will  they  send 
me  proofs  soon  ?" 

"  I  believe  you  will  have  the  whole  book  set  up  in  a  few 
weeks." 

"  Oh  !     The  whole  book — my  book — set  up — in  print !" 

"  Yes ;  and  if  I  were  you,  I  would  send  an  announcement  of 
the  work  by  the  next  mail  to  your  Australian  friends.  Say  that 
your  discovery  has  at  length  assumed  its  final  shape  and  is  now 
ripe  for  publication,  after  being  laid  before  all  the  learned  socie- 
ties of  London,  and  that  it  has  been  accepted  by  Messrs. , 

the  well-known  publishers,  and  will  be  issued  almost  as  soon  as 
this  announcement  reaches  Melbourne.  Here  is  a  slip  that  I 
have  prepared  for  you." 

He  took  it  with  glittering  eyes  and  stammering  voice.  The 
news  seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 

"  Now,  Mr,  Fagg,  that  this  has  been  settled,  there  is  another 
thing  which  I  should  like  to  propose  for  your  consideration. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  293 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  that  great  Roman  who  saved  his  country 
in  a  time  of  peril,  and  then  went  back  to  the  plough  ?" 

Daniel  shook  his  head.  "  Is  there  any  Hebrew  inscription 
about  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  What  I  mean  is  this.  When  your 
volume  is  out,  Mr.  Fagg ;  when  you  have  sent  it — triumphant- 
ly— to  all  the  learned  societies,  and  all  your  subscribers,  and  all 
the  papers  and  everywhere,  including  your  Australian  friends* 
because  the  publisher  will  let  you  have  as  many  copies  as  you 
please ;  would  it  not  be  a  graceful  thing,  and  a  thing  for  future 
liistorians  to  remember,  that  you  left  England  at  the  moment  of 
your  greatest  fame,  and  went  back  to  Australia  to  take  up  your 
old — occupation  ?" 

Daniel  had  never  considered  the  thing  in  this  light,  and 
showed  no  enthusiasm  at  the  proposal. 

"  When  your  friends  in  Victoria  prophesied  fortune  and  fame, 
Mr.  Fagg,  they  spoke  out  of  their  hopes  and  their  pride  in  you. 
Of  course,  I  do  not  know  much  about  these  things — how  should 
I  ?  Yet  I  am  quite  certain  that  it  takes  a  long  time  for  a  learn- 
ed discovery  to  make  way.  There  are  jealousies — you  have  ex- 
perienced them;  and  unwillingness  to  admit  new  things — you 
have  met  with  that  too ;  and  reluctance  to  unlearn  old  things — 
why,  you  have  met  with  that,  as  well." 

"  I  have,"  he  said,  "  I  have." 

"  As  for  granting  a  pension  to  a  scholar,  or  a  title,  or  anything 
of  that  sort,  it  is  really  never  done,  so  that  you  would  have  to 
make  your  own  living  if  you  remained  here." 

"  I  thought  that  when  the  book  was  published  people  would 
buy  it." 

Angela  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  no !  That  is  not  the  kind  of  book  which  is  bought. 
Very  few  people  know  anything  about  inscriptions.  Those 
who  do  will  go  to  the  British  Museum  and  read  it  there.  One 
copy  will  do  for  all." 

Daniel  looked  perplexed. 

"  You  do  not  go  back  empty-handed,"  she  said.  "  You  will 
have  a  fine  story  to  tell  of  how  the  great  scholars  laughed  at 
your  discovery,  and  how  you  got  about  and  told  people,  and 
they  subscribed,  and  your  book  was  published,  and  how  you 
sent  it  to  all  of  them,  to  show  the  mistake  they  had  made,  and 


294  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

how  the  English  people  have  got  the  book  now,  to  confound  the 
scholars,  and  how  your  mission  is  accomplished,  and  you  are 
home  again  to  live  and  die  among  your  own  people.  It  will  be 
a  glorious  return,  Mr.  Fagg.  I  envy  you  the  landing  at  Mel- 
bourne, your  book  under  your  arm.  You  will  go  back  to  your 
old  township  ;  you  will  give  a  lecture  in  the  schoolroom  on  your 
stay  in  England  and  your  reception ;  and  then  you  will  take  up 
your  old  place  again  and  follow  your  old  calling  exactly  the  same 
as  if  you  had  never  left  it,  but  for  the  honor  and  reverence  which 
people  will  pay  you." 

Daniel  cooed  like  a  dove. 

*'  It  may  be,"  the  siren  went  on,  "  that  people  will  pay  pil- 
grimages to  see  you  in  your  old  age.  They  will  come  to  see 
the  man  who  discovered  the  Primitive  Alphabet  and  the  Uni- 
versal Language  ;  they  will  say, '  This  is  Daniel  Fagg,  the  great 
Daniel  Fagg,  whose  unaided  intellect  overset  and  brought  to 
confusion  all  the  scholars  and  showed  their  learning  was  but 
vain  pretence ;  who  proved  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  by  his 
reading  of  tablets  and  inscriptions ;  and  who  returned  when  he 
had  finished  his  task,  with  the  modesty  of  a  great  mind,  to  his 
simple  calling.'" 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Daniel,  banging  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  I 
will  go  as  soon  as  the  book  is  ready." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"then  we'll  keep  company." 

After  the  celebrated  debate  on  the  abolition  of  the  lords, 
Dick  Coppin  found  he  took,  for  the  moment,  a  greatly  dimin- 
ished interest  in  burning  political  questions.  He  lost,  in  fact, 
confidence  in  himself,  and  went  about  with  hanging  head.  The 
Sunday-evening  meetings  were  held  as  usual,  but  the  fiery  voice 
of  Dick  the  Radical  was  silent,  and  people  wondered.  This  was 
the  effect  of  his  cousin's  address  upon  him :  as  for  the  people,  it 
had  made  them  laugh,  just  as  Dick's  had  made  them  angry  ; 
they  came  to  the  hall  to  get  these  little  emotions,  and  not  for 
any  personal  or  critical  interest  in  the  matter  discussed;  and 
this  was  about  all  the  effect  produced  by  them. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  295 

One  evening  the  old  Chartist  who  had  taken  the  chair  met 
Dick  at  the  club. 

"  Come  out,"  he  said ;  "  come  out  and  have  a  crack  while  the 
boys  wrangle." 

They  walked  from  Redman's  Lane,  where  the  club  stands,  to 
the  quiet  side-pavement  of  Stepney  Green,  deserted  now,  because 
the  respectable  people  were  all  in  church,  and  it  was  too  cold 
for  the  lounging  of  the  more  numerous  class  of  those  who  can- 
not call  themselves  respectable. 

The  ex-Chartist  belonged,  like  Daniel  Fagg,  to  the  shoemaking 
trade  in  its  humbler  lines.  The  connection  between  Leather 
and  Socialism,  Chartism,  Radicalism,  Atheism,  and  other  things 
detrimental  to  old  institutions,  has  frequently  been  pointed  out 
and  need  not  be  repeated.  It  is  a  reflecting  trade,  and  the  re- 
sults of  meditation  are  mainly  influenced  by  the  amount  of 
knowledge  the  meditation  begins  with.  In  this  respect,  the 
Chartist  of  thirty  years  ago  had  a  great  advantage  over  his  suc- 
cessors of  the  present  day,  for  he  had  read ;  he  knew  the  works 
of  Owen,  of  Ilolyoake,  and  of  Cobbet ;  he  understood  something 
of  what  he  wanted,  and  why  he  wanted  it.  The  proof  of  this 
is,  that  they  have  got  all  they  wanted,  and  we  still  survive.  When 
next  the  people  really  make  up  their  minds  that  they  want  an- 
other set  of  things,  they  will  probably  get  them  too. 

"  Let  us  talk,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  thinking  a  bit  about  that 
chap's  speech  the  other  night.     I  wanted  an  answer  to  it." 

"  Have  you  got  one  ?" 

"  It's  all  true  what  he  said.  First  of  all,  it's  true.  The  pinch 
is  just  the  same  whether  the  Liberals  are  in  or  the  Tories.  Gov- 
ernment don't  help  us.     Why  should  we  help  them  ?" 

"  Is  that  all  your  answer  ?" 

"  Wait  a  bit,  lad.  Don't  hurry  a  man.  The  chap  was  right. 
We  ought  to  co-operate,  and  get  all  he  said,  and  a  deal  more. 
And  once  we  do  begin,  mind  you,  there'll  be  astonishment.  Be- 
cause, you  see,  Dick,  my  lad,  there's  work  before  us.  But  we 
must  be  educated.  We  must  all  be  got  to  see  what  we  can  do- 
if  we  like.  That  chap's  clever,  now,  though  he  looks  like  a 
swell." 

"  He's  got  plenty  in  him ;  but  he'll  never  be  one  of  us." 

"  If  we  can  use  him,  what  does  it  matter  whether  he  is  one  of 
us  or  not  ?     Come  to  that,  who  is  '  us '  ?     You  don't  pretend, 
U 


296  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

before  me,  that  you  call  yourself  one  of  the  common  workmen, 
do  you  ?  That  does  for  the  club,  but  between  ourselves —  Why, 
man,  you  and  mc,  we're  leaders ;  we've  got  to  think  for  'em. 
What  I  think  is — make  that  chap  draw  up  a  plan,  if  he  can,  for 
getting  the  people  to  work  together.  For  we've  got  all  the  pow- 
er at  last,  Dick ;  we've  got  all  the  power*  Don't  forget,  when  we 
old  uns  are  dead  and  gone,  who  done  it  for  you." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.     Then  he  went  on : 

"  We've  got  what  we  wanted — that's  true — and  we  seem  to 
be  no  better  off.  That's  true,  too.  But  we  are  better  off ;  be- 
cause we  feel  that  every  man  has  his  share  in  the  rule  of  the 
nation ;  that's  a  grand  thing ;  we  are  not  kept  out  of  our  vote ; 
we  don't  see,  as  we  used  to  see,  our  money  spent  for  us  without 
having  a  say  ;  that's  a  very  grand  thing,  which  he  doesn't  under- 
stand ;  nor  you  neither,  because  you  are  too  young.  Everything 
we  get  which  makes  us  feel  our  power  more  is  good  for  us.  The 
chap  was  right,  but  he  was  wrong  as  well.  Don't  give  up  poli- 
tics, lad." 

"  What's  the  good  if  nothing  comes  ?" 

"There's  a  chance  now  for  the  workingman  such  as  he  has 
never  had  before  in  all  history.  You  are  the  lad  to  take  that 
chance.  I've  watched  you,  Dick,  since  you  first  began  to  come 
to  the  club.  There's  life  in  you  ;  Lord  !  I  watch  the  young  fel- 
lows one  after  the  other :  they  stamp  and  froth,  but  it  comes  to 
nothing ;  you're  different ;  you  want  to  be  something  better  than 
a  bellows — though  your  speech  the  other  night  came  pretty  nigh 
to  the  bellows  kind." 

"  Well — what  is  the  chance  ?" 

"  The  House,  Dick.  The  workingmen  will  send  you  there  if 
you  can  show  them  that  you've  got  something  in  you.  It  isn't 
froth  they  want ;  it's  a  practical  man  with  knowledge.  You  go 
on  reading ;  go  on  speaking ;  go  on  debating ;  keep  it  up ;  get 
your  name  known ;  don't  demean  yourself ;  get  reported  ;  and 
learn  all  that  there  is  to  learn.  Once  in  the  House,  Dick,  if  you 
are  not  afraid — " 

"  I  shall  not  be  afraid — " 

"  Humph  !  well ;  we  shall  see.  Well,  there's  your  chance. 
A  workingman's  candidate:  one  of  ourselves;  that's  a  card 
for  you  to  play.  But  not  so  ignorant  as  your  mates,  eh !  able, 
if  you  want,  to  use  the  swells'  sneerin'  talk,  so's  to  call  a  man 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  297 

a  liar  without  sayin'  the  words  ;  to  make  him  feel  like  a  fool 
and  a  whipped  cur  with  just  showin'  your  white  teeth.  Learn 
them  ways,  Dick.     They'll  be  useful." 

"  But  if,"  said  the  young  man,  doubtfully,  "if  I  am  to  keep 
on  debating,  what  subjects  shall  we  take  up  at  the  club  ?" 

"  I  should  go  in  for  practical  subjects.  Say  that  the  club  is 
ready  to  vote  for  the  abolition  of  the  lords  and  the  church,  and 
reform  of  the  land  laws,  when  the  time  comes.  You  haven't 
got  the  choice  of  subjects  that  we  had.  Lord !  what  with  rot- 
ten boroughs  and  the  black  book  of  pensions,  and  younger  sons 
and  favoritism  in  the  service — why,  our  hands  were  full." 

"  What  practical  subjects  ?" 

"  Why,  them  as  your  cousin  talked  about.  There's  the  wages 
of  the  girls  ;  there's  food  and  fish  and  drink  ;  there's  high 
rent ;  there's  a  world  o'  subjects.  You  go  and  find  out  all 
about  them.  Give  up  the  rest  for  a  spell,  and  make  yourself 
master  of  all  these  questions.  If  you  do,  Dick,  I  believe  your 
fortune  is  made." 

Dick  looked  doubtful.  It  seemed  disheartening  to  be  sent 
back  to  the  paltry  matter  of  wages,  prices,  and  so  on,  when 
he  was  burning  to  lead  in  something  great.  Yet  the  advice 
was  sound. 

"  Sometimes  I  think,  Dick,"  the  old  man  went  on,  "  that  the 
workingman's  best  friends  would  be  the  swells,  if  they  could 
be  got  hold  of.  They've  got  nothing  to  make  out  of  the  arti- 
san ;  they  don't  run  factories  nor  keep  shops  ;  they  don't  care, 
bless  you,  how  high  his  wages  are  ;  why  should  they  ?  They've 
got  their  farmers  to  pay  the  rent,  and  their  houses,  and  their 
money  in  the  funds ;  what  does  it  matter  to  them  ?  They're 
well  brought  up,  too,  most  of  them,  civil  in  their  manner,  and 
disposed  to  be  friendly,  if  you're  neither  stand-ofiish  nor  famil- 
iar, but  know  yourself  and  talk  accordin'. 

"  If  the  swells  won't  come  to  us,  we  ought  to  go  to  them. 
Eemember  that,  Dick.  Very  soon  there  will  be  no  more  ques- 
tions of  Tory  and  Liberal,  but  only  what  is  the  best  thing  for  us. 
You  play  your  game  by  the  newest  rules  ;  as  for  the  old  ones, 
they've  seen  their  day." 

Dick  left  him,  but  he  did  not  return  to  the  club.  He  com- 
muned beneath  the  stars,  turning  over  these  and  other  matters 
in  his  mind.  Yes  ;  the  old  man  was  right ;  the  old  indignation 
13* 


298  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    ME\. 

times  were  over  ;  the  long  list  of  crimes  which  the  political  agi- 
tator could  bring  against  king,  church,  lords  and  commons, 
thirty,  forty,  fifty  years  ago,  are  useless  now ;  they  only  serve 
to  amuse  an  audience  not  too  critical ;  he  was  ashamed  of  what 
he  had  himself  said  about  the  lords ;  such  charges  are  like  the 
oratory  of  an  ex-minister  on  the  stump,  finding  no  accusation 
too  reckless  to  be  hurled  against  his  enemies. 

He  was  profoundly  ambitious.  To  some  men  situated  like 
himself,  it  might  have  been  a  legitimate  and  suflicient  ambition 
to  recover  by  slow  degrees  and  thrift,  and  in  some  trading  way, 
the  place  in  the  middle  class  from  which  the  Coppins  had  fallen. 
Not  so  to  Dick  Coppin.  He  cared  very  little  about  the  former 
greatness  of  the  Coppins,  and  the  position  once  occupied  by 
Coppin  the  builder,  his  father,  before  he  went  bankrupt.  He 
meant,  secretly,  something  very  much  greater  for  himself ;  he 
would  be  a  member  of  Parliament ;  he  would  be  a  workingman's 
member.  There  have  already  been  half  a  dozen  workingmen's 
members  in  the  house  ;  their  success  has  not  hitherto  been 
marked,  probably  because  none  of  them  have  shown  that  they 
know  what  they  want,  if  indeed  they  want  anything.  Up  to 
the  last  few  days,  Dick  simply  desired  in  the  abstract  to  be  one 
of  them — only,  of  course,  a  red-hot  Radical,  an  irreconcilable. 
Now,  however,  he  desired  more  ;  his  cousin's  words  and  the 
Chartist's  words  fell  on  fruitful  soil ;  he  perceived  that  to  be- 
come a  power  in  the  House  one  must  be  able  to  inform  the  House 
on  the  wants,  the  programme  of  his  constituents ;  what  thejr 
desire  and  mean  to  have.  Dick  always  mentally  added  that 
clause,  because  it  belongs  to  the  class  of  speech  in  which  he  had 
been  brought  up,  "  and  we  mean  to  have  it."  You  accompany 
the  words  with  a  flourish  of  the  left  hand,  which  is  found  to  be 
more  effective  than  the  right,  for  such  purposes.  They  don't 
really  mean  to  have  it,  whatever  it  may  be,  but  with  their  au- 
diences it  is  necessary  to  put  on  the  appearance  of  strength  be- 
fore there  arises  any  confidence  in  strength.  Disestablishers 
of  all  kinds  invariably  mean  to  have  it,  and  the  phrase  is  per- 
haps getting  played  out. 

Dick  went  home  to  his  lodgings,  and  sat  among  his  books, 
thinking.  He  was  a  man  who  read  ;  for  the  sake  of  being  in- 
dependent he  became  a  teetotaller,  so  that,  getting  good  wages, 
he  was  rich  ;  he  would  not  marry,  because  he  did  not  want  to 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  299 

be  encumbered  ;  he  bought  such  books  as  he  thought  would  be 
useful  to  him  and  read  them,  but  no  others ;  he  was  a  man  of 
energy  and  tenacity,  whose  chief  fault  was  the  entire  absence, 
as  yet,  of  sympathy  and  imagination.  If  these  could  be  sup- 
plied in  any  way,  Dick  Coppin's  course  would  be  assured.  For 
with  them  would  come  play  of  fancy,  repartee,  wit,  illustration, 
and  the  graces  as  well  as  the  strength  of  oratory. 

He  went  on  Monday  eyening  to  see  Miss  Kennedy.  He  would 
find  out  from  her,  as  a  beginning,  all  that  she  could  tell  him 
about  the  wages  of  women. 

"  But  I  have  told  you,"  she  said  ;  "  I  told  you  all  the  first 
night  you  came  here.  Have  you  forgotten  ?  Then  I  suppose 
I  must  tell  you  again." 

The  first  time  he  was  only  bored  with  the  story,  because  he 
did  not  see  how  he  could  use  it  for  his  own  purposes.  There- 
fore he  had  forgotten  the  details. 

She  told  him  the  sad  story  of  woman's  wrongs,  which  go  un- 
redressed while  their  sisters  clamor  for  female  suffrage  and  make 
school-boards  intolerable  by  their  squabbles.  The  women  do 
but  copy  the  men  ;  therefore,  while  the  men  neglect  the  things 
that  lie  readily  to  their  hand  and  hope  for  things  impossible, 
under  new  forms  of  government,  what  wonder  if  the  women 
do  the  like  ? 

This  time  Dick  listened,  because  he  now  understood  that  a 
practical  use  might  be  made  out  of  the  information.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  highly  sensitive  organization,  nor  did  he  feel  any 
indignation  at  the  things  Angela  told  him,  seeing  that  he  had 
grown  up  among  these  things  all  his  life,  and  regarded  the  ine- 
qualities of  wages  and  work  as  part  of  the  bad  luck  of  being 
born  a  woman.  But  he  took  note  of  all,  and  asked  shrewd 
questions  and  made  suggestions. 

"  If,"  he  said,  "  there's  a  hundred  women  asking  for  ten 
places,  of  course  the  governor'U  give  them  to  the  cheapest." 

"  That,"  replied  Angela,  "  is  a  matter  of  course  as  things  now 
are.  But  there  is  another  way  of  considering  the  question.  If 
we  had  a  woman's  trade  union,  as  we  shall  have  before  long, 
where  there  are  ten  places  only  ten  women  should  be  allowed 
to  apply,  and  just  wages  be  demanded." 

"  How  is  that  to  be  done  ?" 

"  My  friend,  you  have  yet  a  great  deal  to  learn." 


300  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Dick  reddened,  and  replied  rudely  that,  if  he  had,  he  did  not 
expect  to  learn  it  from  a  woman. 

"  A  great  deal  to  learn,"  she  repeated,  gently ;  "  above  all, 
you  have  got  to  learn  the  lesson  which  your  cousin  began  to 
teach  you  the  other  night — the  great  lesson  of  finding  out  what 
you  want,  and  then  getting  it  for  yourselves.  Governments  are 
nothing  ;  you  must  help  yourselves  ;  you  must  combine." 

He  was  silent.  The  girl  made  him  angry,  yet  he  was  afraid 
of  her,  because  no  other  woman  whom  he  had  ever  met  spoke 
as  she  did,  or  knew  so  much. 

"  Combine,"  she  repeated.  "  Preach  the  doctrine  of  combina- 
tion ;  and  teach  us  the  purposes  for  which  we  ought  to  combine." 

The  advice  was  just  what  the  cobbler  had  given. 

*'  Oh,  Mr.  Coppin " — her  voice  was  as  winning  as  her  eyes 
were  kind  and  full  of  interest — "  you  are  clever ;  you  are  per- 
severing ;  you  are  brave ;  you  have  so  splendid  a  voice ;  you 
have  such  a  natural  gift  of  oratory,  that  you  ought  to  become — 
you  must  become — one  of  the  leaders  of  the  people." 

Pride  fell  prone,  like  Dagon,  before  these  words.  Dick  suc- 
cumbed to  the  gracious  influence  of  a  charming  woman. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  reddening,  because  it  is  humiliating  to 
seek  help  of  a  girl,  "  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do  ?" 

"  You  are  ambitious,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  boldly,  "  I  am  ambitious.  I  don't  tell 
them  outside,"  he  jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  to  indi- 
cate the  Advanced  Club,  "  but  1  mean  to  get  into  the  'Ouse — I 
mean,  the  House."  One  of  his  little  troubles  was  the  correc- 
tion of  certain  peculiarities  of  speech  common  among  his  class. 
It  was  his  cousin  who  first  directed  his  attention  to  this  point. 

"  Yes  ;  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  get  into  the 
House,"  said  Angela.  *'  But  it  would  be  a  thousand  pities  if 
you  should  get  in  yet." 

"  AVhy  should  I  wait,  if  they  will  elect  me  ?" 

"  Because,  Mr.  Coppin,  you  must  not  try  to  lead  the  people 
till  you  know  whither  you  would  lead  them  ;  because  you  must 
not  pretend  to  represent  the  people  till  you  have  learned  their 
condition  and  their  wants  ;  because  you  must  not  presume  to 
offer  yourself  till  you  are  prepared  with  a  programme." 

"  Yet  plenty  of  others  do." 

*'  They  do  ;  but  what  else  have  they  done  ?" 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  301 

"  Only  tell  mc,  then  ;  tell  me  what  to  do.     Am  I  to  read  ?" 
"  No  ;   you  have  read  enough  for  the  present.     Rest  your 
eyes  from  books  ;  open  them  to  the  world ;  see  things  as  they 
are.     Look  out  of  this  window.     What  do  you  see  ?" 
"  Nothing  :  a  row  of  houses  ;  a  street ;  a  road." 
"  I  see,  besides,  that  the  houses  are  mean,  dirty,  and  void  of 
beauty ;  but  I  see  more.     I  see  an  organ-player ;  on  the  curb- 
stone the  little  girls  are  dancing ;  in  the  road  the  ragged  boys 
are  playing.     Look  at  the  freedom  of  the  girls'  limbs  ;  look  at 
the  careless  grace  of  the  children.     Do  you  know  how  clever 
they  are  ?    Some  of  them,  who  sleep  where  they  can  and  live  as 
they  can,  can  pick  pockets  at  three,  go  shop-lifting  at  four,  plot 
and  make   conspiracies  at  five  ;  see  how  they  run  and  jump 
and  climb." 

"I  see  them.  They  are  everywhere.  How  can  we  help  that?" 
"  You  would  leave  these  poor  children  to  the  government  and 
the  police.  Yet  I  think  a  better  way  to  redeem  these  little 
ones  is  for  the  workingmen  to  resolve  together  that  they  shall 
be  taken  care  of,  taught,  and  apprenticed.  Spelling,  which  your 
cousin  says  constitutes  most  of  the  school-board  education,  does 
not  so  much  matter.  Take  them  off  the  streets  and  train  them 
to  a  trade.  Do  you  ever  walk  about  the  streets  at  night  ?  Be 
your  own  police,  and  make  your  streets  clean.  Do  you  ever  go 
into  the  courts  and  places  where  the  dock-laborers  sleep  ?  Have 
a  committee  for  every  one  such  street  or  court,  and  make  them 
decent.  When  a  gang  of  roughs  make  the  pavement  intolera- 
ble, you  decent  men  step  off  and  leave  them  to  the  policeman, 
if  he  dare  interfere.  Put  down  the  roughs  yourselves  with  a 
strong  hand.  Clear  out  the  thieves'  dens  and  the  drinking- 
shops  ;  make  rogues  and  vagabonds  go  elsewhere.  I  am  always 
about  among  the  people  ;  they  are  full  of  sufferings  which  need 
not  be  ;  there  are  a  great  many  workers — ladies,  priests,  clergy- 
men— among  them,  trying  to  remove  some  of  the  suffering.  But 
why  do  you  not  do  this  for  yourselves  ?  Be  your  own  almoners. 
I  find  everywhere,  too,  courage  and  honesty,  and  a  desire  for 
better  things.  Show  them  how  their  lot  may  be  alleviated." 
"  But  I  don't  know  how,"  he  replied,  humbly. 
"  You  must  first  find  out,  if  you  would  be  their  leader.  And 
you  must  have  sympathy.  Never  was  there  yet  a  leader  of  the 
people  who  did  not  feel  with  them  as  they  feel." 


302  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

This  saying  was  too  hard  for  the  young  man,  who  had,  he 
knew,  felt  hitherto  only  for  himself. 

**  You  say  what  Harry  says.  I  sometimes  think — "  he  stopped 
short,  as  if  an  idea  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him.  "  Look  here, 
is  it  true  that  you  and  Harry  are  keeping  company  ?" 

"  No,  we  are  not,"  Angela  replied,  with  a  blush. 

"  Oh !  I  thought  you  were.     Is  it  oS,  then  ?" 

"  It  never  was — more — on — than  it  is  at  present,  Mr.  Coppin." 

"  Oh  !"  he  looked  doubtful.  "  Well—"  he  said,  "  I  suppose 
there  is  no  reason  why  a  girl  should  tell  a  lie  about  such  a  sim- 
ple thing."  He  certainly  was  a  remarkably  rude  young  man. 
"  Either  you  are  or  you  ain't.    That's  it,  isn't  it  ?  And  you  ain't  ?" 

"  We  are  not,"  said  Angela,  with  a  little  blush,  for  the  facts 
of  the  case  were,  from  one  point  of  view,  against  her. 

"  Then,  if  you  are  not,  I  don't  care,  though  it's  against  my 
rules,  and  I  did  say  I  would  never  be  bothered  with  a  woman — 
look  here — you  and  me  will." 

"  Will  what  ?" 

"  Will  keep  company,"  he  replied,  firmly.  "  Oh  !  I  know  ; 
it's  a  great  chance  for  you ;  but  then,  you  see,  you  ain't  like 
the  rest  of  'em,  and  you  know  things,  somehow,  that  may  be 
useful — though '  how  you  learned  'em,  nor  where  you  came 
from,  nor  what's  your  character — there — I  don't  care,  we'll 
keep  company  !" 

"  Oh !" 

"  Yes ;  we'll  begin  next  Sunday.  You'll  be  useful  to  me,  so 
that  the  bargain  is  not  all  on  one  side."  It  was  not  till  after- 
wards that  Angela  felt  the  full  force  of  this  remark.  "  As  for 
getting  married,  there's  no  hurry ;  we'll  talk  about  that  when 
I'm  member.     Of  course,  it  would  be  silly  to  get  married  now." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Angela. 

"  Let's  get  well  up  the  tree  first.  Lord  help  you  !  How  could 
I  climb,  to  say  nothing  o'  you,  with  a  round  half-dozen  o'  babies 
at  my  heels  ?" 

"  But,  Mr.  Coppin,"  she  said,  putting  aside  these  possibilities, 
"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  cannot  possibly  keep  company  with 
you.  There  is  a  reason — I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  is — but  you 
must  put  that  out  of  your  thoughts." 

"  Oh  !"  his  face  fell ;  "  if  you  won't,  you  won't.  Most  girls 
jump  at  a  man  who's  in  good  wages  and  a  temperance  man,  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  303 

sought  after,  like  mc.    But — there — if  you  won't,  there's  an  end. 

I'm  not  going  to  waste  my  time  cryin'  after  any  girl." 

■     "  We  will  remain  friends,  Mr.  Coppin  ?"     She  held  out  her 

hand. 

"  Friends  ?  Avhat's  that  ?  we  might  ha'  been  pals.  I  mean — 
partners." 

"  But  I  can  tell  you  all  I  think  ;  I  can  advise  you  in  my  poor 
way  still,  whenever  you  please  to  ask  my  advice,  even  if  I  do 
not  share  your  greatness.  And  believe  me,  Mr.  Coppin,  that  I 
most  earnestly  desire  to  see  you  not  only  in  the  House,  but 
a  real  leader  of  the  people,  such  a  leader  as  the  world  has 
never  yet  beheld.  To  begin  with,  you  will  be  a  man  of  the 
very  people." 

"  Ay  !"  he  said,  "  one  of  themselves  !" 
"  A  man  not  to  be  led  out  of  his  way  by  flatterers." 
"  No,"  he  said,  with  a  superior  smile  ;  "  no  one,  man  or  woman, 
can  flatter  me." 

"  A  man  who  knows  the  restless,  unsatisfied  yearnings  of  the 
people,  and  what  they  mean,  and  has  found  out  how  they  may 
be  satisfied." 

"  Ye — yes  !"  he  replied,  doubtfully  ;  "  certainly." 
"A  man  who  will  lead  the  people  to  get  what  is  good  for 
themselves  and  by  themselves,  without  the  help  of  government." 
And  no  thunders  in  the  Commons  ?  No  ringing  denuncia- 
tion of  the  Hereditary  House  ?  Nothing  at  all  that  he  had 
looked  to  do  and  to  say  ?  Call  this  a  leadership  ?  But  he 
thought  of  the  Chartist  and  his  new  methods.  By  different 
roads,  said  Montaigne,  we  arrive  at  the  same  end. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

WHAT    WILL    BE    THE    END  ? 


The  end  of  the  year  drew  near,  the  end  of  that  last  year  of 
eighty-one,  which,  whatever  its  shortcomings,  its  burning  heat 
of  July,  and  its  wretched  rain  of  August,  went  out  in  sweet  and 
gracious  sunshine,  and  a  December  like  unto  the  April  of  a 
poet.  For  six  months  Angela  had  been  living  among  her  girls ; 
the  place  had  become  homelike  to  her ;  the  workwomen  were 


304  ALL    SORTS     AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

now  her  friends,  her  trusted  friends ;  the  voice  of  calumny  about 
her  antecedents  was  silent,  unless  when  it  was  the  voice  of  Bun- 
ker ;  the  Palace  of  Delight,  whose  meaning  was  as  ydt  unknown 
and  unsuspected,  was  rising  rapidly,  and,  indeed,  was  nearly 
complete,  a  shell  which  had  to  be  filled  with  things  beautiful 
and  delightful,  of  which  Angela  did  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 
She  had  a  great  deal  to  think  of  in  those  last  days  of  the  year 
eighty-one.  The  dressmaking  was  nothing ;  that  went  on ; 
there  was  some  local  custom,  and  more  was  promised  ;  it  seemed 
as  if,  on  the  soundest  principles  of  economy,  it  would  actually 
pay ;  there  Avas  a  very  large  acquaintance  made  at  odd  times 
among  the  small  streets  and  mean  houses  of  Stepney;  it  was 
necessary  to  visit  these  people  and  to  talk  with  them.  Angela 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  ordinary  channels  of  charity ;  she 
would  help  neither  curate,  nor  sister  of  mercy,  nor  Bible-woman. 
Why,  she  said,  do  not  the  people  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder 
and  help  themselves  ?  To  be  sure,  she  had  the  great  advantage 
over  the  professional  visitors  that  she  was  herself  only  a  work- 
woman and  was  not  paid  for  any  services.  And,  as  if  there  was 
not  already  enough  to  make  her  anxious,  there  was  that  lover 
of  hers. 

Were  she  and  Harry  keeping  company  ?  Dick  Coppin  asked 
this  question,  and  Angela,  not  altogether  truthfully,  said  that 
they  were  not.  What  else  were  they  doing,  indeed  ?  No  word 
of  love,  now  ;  had  he  not  promised  to  abstain  ?  Yet  she  knew 
his  past ;  she  knew  what  he  had  given  up  for  her  sake,  believing 
her  only  a  poor  dressmaker — all  for  love  of  her — and  she  could 
not  choose  but  let  her  heart  go  forth  to  so  loyal  and  true  a  lover. 
Many  ladies  in  many  tales  of  chivalry  have  demanded  strange 
services  from  their  lovers,  none  so  strange  as  that  asked  by  An- 
gela, when  she  ordered  her  lover  not  only  to  pretend  to  be  a 
cabinet-maker  and  a  joiner,  but  to  worh  at  his  trade  and  to 
live  ly  it.  Partly  in  self-reproach,  partly  in  admiration,  she 
watched  him  going  and  coming  to  and  from  the  Brewery,  where 
he  now  earned,  thanks  to  Lord  Jocelyn's  intervention,  the  sum 
of  a  whole  shilling  an  hour.  For  there  was  nothing  in  his  bear- 
ing or  his  talk  to  show  that  he  repented  his  decision ;  he  was 
always  cheerful ;  always  of  good  courage  ;  more,  he  was  always 
in  attendance  upon  her.  It  was  he  who  thought  for  her,  in- 
vented plans  to  make  her  evenings  attractive,  brought  raw  lads — 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  305 

recruits  in  the  army  of  culture — from  the  Advanced  Chib  and 
elsewhere,  and  set  them  an  example  of  good  manners,  and  was 
her  prime-minister,  her  aide-de-camp,  her  chief  vizier. 

And  the  end  of  it  all  ?  Nay  ;  the  thing  itself  being  so  pleas- 
ant, why  hasten  the  end  ?  And  if  there  was  to  be  an  end,  could 
it  not  be  connected  with  the  opening  of  the  palace  ?  Yes,  when 
the  palace  was  ready  to  open  its  gates,  then  would  Angela  open 
her  anus.  For  the  moment,  it  was  the  sweet  twilight  of  love  ; 
the  half-hour  before  the  dawn,  the  sweet  uncertainty  when  ail 
was  certainty.  And  as  yet  the  palace  was  only  just  receiving 
its  roof ;  the  fittings  and  decorations,  the  organ  and  the  statues 
and  all  had  still  to  be  put  in.  When  everything  was  ready — 
then — then  —  Angela  would  somehow,  perhaps,  find  words  to 
bid  her  lover  be  happy  if  she  could  make  him  happy. 

There  could  be  but  one  end.  Angela  came  to  Whitechapel 
incognita,  a  princess  disguised  as  a  milkmaid,  partly  out  of  cu- 
riosity, partly  to  try  her  little  experiment  for  the  good  of  the 
workgirls,  with  the  gayety  and  light  heart  of  youth,  thinking 
that  before  long  she  would  return  to  her  old  place,  ^'ms^  as  she 
had  left  it.  But  she  could  not ;  her  old  views  of  life  were 
changed,  and  a  man  had  changed  them  ;  more  than  that,  a  man 
whose  society,  whose  strength,  whose  counsel  had  become  nec- 
essary to  her.  "  Who,"  she  asked  herself,  "  would  have  thought 
of  the  palace,  except  him  ?  Could  I,  could  any  woman  ?  I  could 
have  given  away  money  ;  that  is  all ;  I  could  have  been  robbed 
and  cheated ;  but  such  an  idea,  so  grand,  so  simple — it  is  a 
man's,  not  a  woman's.  When  the  palace  is  completed,  when 
all  is  ready  for  the  opening — then — "  And  then  the  air  became 
musical  with  the  clang  and  clash  of  wedding-bells,  up  the  scale, 
down  the  scale,  in  thirds,  in  fifths,  with  triple  bob-majors,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  people,  and  the  triumphant  strains  of  a  wed- 
ding-march. 

How  could  there  be  any  end  but  one,  seeing  that  not  only  did 
this  young  man  present  himself  nearly  every  evening  at  the 
drawing-room,  when  he  was  recognized  as  the  director  of  cere- 
monies, or  the  leader  of  the  cotillion,  or  the  deviser  of  sports, 
from  an  acted  proverhe  to  a  madrigal,  but  that,  in  addition,  the 
custom  was  firmly  established  that  he  and  Angela  should  spend 
their  Sundays  together ;  when  it  rained  they  went  to  church 
together,  and  had  readings  in  the  drawing-room  in  the  after- 


306  ALL   SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

noon,  with  perhaps  a  little  concert  in  the  evening,  of  sacred 
music,  to  which  some  of  the  girls  would  come.  But  if  the  day 
was  sunny  and  bright  there  were  many  places  where  they  might 
go,  for  the  East  is  richer  than  the  West  in  pretty  and  accessible 
country  places.  They  would  take  the  tram  along  the  Mile  End 
Road,  past  the  delightful  old  church  of  Bow,  to  Stratford,  with 
its  fine  town-hall  and  its  round  dozen  of  churches  and  chapels ; 
a  town  of  fifty  thousand  people,  and  quite  a  genteel  place,  whose 
residents  preserve  the  primitive  custom  of  fetching  the  dinner- 
beer  themselves,  from  its  native  public-house,  on  Sunday  after 
church.  At  Stratford  there  are  many  ways  open  if  you  are  a 
good  walker,  as  Angela  was.  You  may  take  the  Romford  Road, 
and  presently  turn  to  the  left  and  find  yourself  in  a  grand  old 
forest — only,  there  is  not  much  of  it  left — called  Hainault  For- 
est. When  you  have  crossed  the  forest  you  get  to  Chigwell, 
and  then,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  take  another  six  miles,  as 
Angela  and  Harry  generally  did,  and  get  to  Epping,  where  the 
toothsome  steak  may  be  found,  or  haply  the  simple  cold  beef, 
not  to  be  despised  after  a  fifteen  miles'  walk.  And  so  home  by 
train.  Or  you  may  take  the  northern  road  at  Stratford,  and 
walk  through  Leytonstone  and  Woodford,  and,  leaving  Epping 
Forest  on  the  right,  walk  along  the  bank  of  the  River  Lea  till 
you  come  to  Waltham  Abbey,  where  there  is  a  church  to  be 
seen,  and  a  cross,  and  other  marvels.  Or  you  may  go  still  far- 
ther afield  and  take  train  all  the  way  to  Ware,  and  walk  through 
country  roads  and  pleasant  lanes,  if  you  have  a  map,  to  stately 
Hatfield  and  on  to  St.  Albans,  but  do  not  try  to  dine  there,  even 
if  you  are  only  one-and-twenty  and  a  girl.  All  these  walks,  and 
many  more,  were  taken  by  Angela,  with  her  companion,  on  that 
blessed  day  which  should  be  spent  for  the  good  of  body  as  well 
as  soul.  They  are  walks  which  are  beautiful  in  the  winter  as 
well  as  in  the  summer ;  though  the  trees  are  leafless,  there  is  an 
underwood  faintly  colored  with  its  winter  tint  of  purple,  and 
there  are  stretches  of  springy  turf  and  bushes  hung  with  cat- 
kins, and,  above  all,  there  was  nobody  in  the  forest  or  on  the 
roads  except  Angela  and  Harry.  Sometimes  the  night  fell  on 
them  when  they  were  yet  three  or  four  miles  from  Epping ;  then, 
as  they  walked  in  the  twilight,  the  trees  on  either  hand  silently 
glided  past  them  like  ghosts,  and  the  mist  rose  and  made  things 
shadowy  and  large,  and  the  sense  of  an  endless  pilgrimage  fell 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  307 

upon  them,  as  if  they  would  always  go  on  like  this,  side  by  side ; 
then  their  hearts  would  glow  within  them  and  they  would  talk, 
and  the  girl  would  think  it  no  shame  to  reveal  the  secret 
thoughts  of  her  heart,  although  the  man  with  her  was  not  her 
accepted  lover. 

As  for  her  reputation,  where  was  it  ?  Not  gone,  indeed,  be- 
cause no  one,  among  her  old  friends,  knew  of  these  walks  and 
this  companionship  ;  but  in  grievous  peril. 

Or,  when  the  day  was  cloudy,  there  was  the  City.  I  declare, 
there  is  no  place  which  contains  more  delightful  walks  for  a 
cloudy  Sunday  forenoon,  when  the  clang  of  the  bells  has  fin- 
ished, and  the  scanty  worshippers  are  in  their  places,  and  the 
sleepy  sextons  have  shut  the  doors,  than  the  streets  and  lanes 
of  the  old  City.  You  must  go,  as  Harry  did,  provided  with 
something  of  ancient  lore,  otherwise  the  most  beautiful  places 
will  quite  certainly  be  thrown  away  and  lost  for  you.  Take 
that  riverside  walk  from  Billingsgate  to  Blackfriars.  Why,  here 
were  the  quays,  the  ports,  the  whole  commerce  of  the  City  in 
the  good  old  days.  Here  was  Cold  Herbergh,  that  great,  many- 
gabled  house,  where  Harry,  Prince  of  Wales,  "  carried  on"  with 
FalstafE  and  his  merry  crew  ;  here  was  Queen  Hithe  ;  here  Dow- 
gate-with-Walbrook ;  here  Baynard's  Castle,  and,  close  by,  the 
tower  of  Montfichet ;  also,  a  little  to  the  north,  a  thousand  places 
dear  to  the  antiquary,  though  they  have  pulled  down  so  much ; 
there  is  Tower  Royal,  where  Richard  the  Second  lodged  his 
mother';  there  is  the  church  of  Whittington,  close  by  the  place 
where  his  college  stood  ;  there  are  the  precincts  of  Paul's  and 
the  famous  street  of  Chepe — do  people  ever  think  what  things 
have  been  done  in  Chepe  ? — there  is  Austin  Friars  with  its  grand 
old  church  now  given  to  the  Dutch,  and  its  quiet  city  square 
where  only  a  few  years  ago  lived  Lettice  Langton,  of  whom 
some  of  us  have  heard ;  there  is  the  Tower  Hill,  on  which  was 
the  residence  of  Alderman  Medlycott,  guardian  of  Nelly  Carel- 
lis ;  and  west  of  Paul's  there  is  the  place  where  once  stood  the 
house  of  Dr.  Gregory  Shovel,  who  received  the  orphan  Kitty 
Pleydell.  But,  indeed,  there  is  no  end  to  the  histories  and  as- 
sociations of  the  City,  and  a  man  may  give  his  life  profitably 
to  the  mastery  and  mystery  of  its  winding  streets. 

Here  they  would  wander  in  the  quiet  Sunday  forenoons,  while 
their  footsteps  echoed  in  the  deserted  streets  and  they  could 


308  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

walk  fearless  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  while  they  talked  of  the 
great  town  and  its  million  dwellers,  who  come  like  the  birds  in 
the  morning  and  vanish  like  the  birds  in  the  evening. 

Or  they  would  cross  the  river  and  wander  up  and  down  the 
quaint  old  town  of  Rotherhithe,  or  visit  Southwark,  the  town  of 
hops  and  malt  and  all  kinds  of  strange  things,  or  Deptford  the 
Deserted,  or  even  Greenwich ;  and  if  it  was  rainy  they  would  go 
to  church.  There  are  a  great  many  places  of  worship  about 
Whitechapel,  and  many  forms  of  creed,  from  the  Baptist  to  the 
man  with  the  biretta,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  select  one 
which  is  more  confident  than  another  of  possessing  the  real 
Philosopher's  Stone,  the  thing  for  which  we  are  always  search- 
ing, the  Whole  Truth.  And  everywhere,  church  and  chapel 
filled  with  the  well-to-do,  and  the  respectable,  and  a  sprinkling 
of  the  very  poor.     But  of  the  workingmen — none. 

"  Why  have  they  all  given  up  religion  ?"  asked  Angela. 
"  Why  should  the  workingmen  all  over  the  world  feel  no  need 
of  religion,  if  it  were  only  the  religious  emotion  ?" 

Harry,  who  had  answers  ready  for  many  questions,  could  find 
none  for  this.  He  asked  his  cousin  Dick,  but  he  could  not  tell. 
Personally,  he  said,  he  had  something  else  to  do,  but  if  the 
women  wanted  to  go  to  church  they  might,  and  so  long  as  the 
parsons  and  priests  did  not  meddle  with  him,  he  should  not 
meddle  with  them.  But  these  statements  hardly  seemed  an  an- 
swer to  the  question.  Perhaps  in  Berlin  or  in  Paris  they  could 
explain  more  clearly  how  this  strange  thing  has  come  to  pass. 


CHAPTER  XXXVH. 

TRUTH    WITH    FAITHFULNESS. 


To  possess  pure  truth — and  to  know  it — is  a  thing  which  af- 
fects people  in  two  ways,  botb  of  them  uncomfortable  to  their 
fellow-creatures.  It  impels  some  to  go  pointing  out  the  purity 
of  truth  to  the  world  at  large,  insisting  upon  it,  dragging  unwill- 
ing people  along  the  road  which  leads  to  it,  and  dwelling  upon 
the  dangers  which  attend  the  neglect  of  so  great  a  chance. 
Others  it  afiEects  with  a  calm  and  comfortable  sense  of  superior- 
ity.    The  latter  was  Rebekah's  state  of  mind  :  to  be  a  Seventh- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  309 

day  Independent  was  only  one  degree  removed  from  belonging 
to  the  Chosen  People,  to  begin  with ;  and  that  there  is  but  one 
chapel  in  all  England  where  the  truth  reposes  for  a  space  as  the 
Ark  of  the  Covenant  reposed  at  Shiloh,  "  in  curtains,"  is,  if  yon 
please,  a  thing  to  be  proud  of !  It  brings  with  it  elevation  of 
soul. 

There  is  at  present,  whatever  there  may  once  have  been,  no 
proselytizing  zeal  about  the  Seventh-day  Independents ;  they 
are,  in  fact,  a  torpid  body ;  they  are  contented  with  the  convic- 
tion— a  very  comforting  one,  and  possessed  by  other  creeds 
besides  their  own — that,  sooner  or  later,  the  whole  world  will 
embrace  their  faith.  Perhaps  the  Jews  look  forward  to  a  day 
when,  in  addition  to  the  Restoration  which  they  profess  to  de- 
sire, all  mankind  will  become  proselytes  in  the  Court  of  the  Gen- 
tiles ;  it  is  something  little  short  of  this  that  the  congregation  of 
Seventh-day  Independents  expect  in  the  dim  future.  What  a 
splendid,  what  a  magnificent  field  for  glory — call  it  not  vain- 
glory— does  this  conviction  present  to  the  humble  believer ! 
There  are,  again,  so  very  few  of  them,  that  each  one  may  feel 
himself  a  visible  pillar  of  the  Catholic  Church,  bearing  on  his 
shoulders  a  perceptible  and  measurable  quantity  of  weight. 
Each  is  an  Atlas.  It  is,  moreover,  pleasing  to  read  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  especially  the  books  of  the  prophets,  as  written  es- 
pecially for  a  connection  which  numbers  just  one  chapel  in 
Great  Britain  and  seven  in  the  United  States.  How  grand  is 
the  name  of  Catholic  applied  to  just  one  church !  Catholicity 
is  as  yet  all  to  come,  and  exists  only  as  a  germ  or  seedling ! 
The  early  Christians  may  have  experienced  the  same  delight. 

Rebekah,  best  and  most  careful  of  shopwomen  and  account- 
ants, showed  her  religious  superiority  more  by  the  silence  of 
contempt  than  by  zeal  for  conversion.  When  Captain  Tom 
Coppin,  for  instance,  was  preaching  to  the  girls,  she  went  on 
with  her  figures,  casting  up,  ruling  in  red  ink,  carrying  forward 
in  methodical  fashion,  as  if  his  words  could  not  possibly  have 
any  concern  with  her ;  and  when  a  church-bell  rang,  or  any 
words  were  spoken  about  other  forms  of  worship,  she  became 
suddenly  deaf  and  blind  and  cold.  But  she  entreated  Angela 
to  attend  their  services.  "  We  want  everybody  to  come,"  she 
said ;  "  we  only  ask  for  a  single  hearing ;  come  and  hear  my 
father  preach." 


310  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

She  believed  in  the  faith  of  the  Seventh  Day.  As  for  her  fa- 
ther— when  a  man  is  paid  to  advocate  the  cause  of  an  eccentric 
or  a  ridiculous  form  of  belief ;  when  he  has  to  plead  that  cause 
week  by  week  to  the  same  slender  following,  to  prop  up  the 
limp,  and  to  keep  together  his  small  body  of  believers ;  when 
he  has  to  maintain  a  show  of  hopefulness,  to  strengthen  the 
wavering,  to  confirm  the  strong,  to  encourage  his  sheep  in  con- 
fidence ;  when  he  gets  too  old  for  anything  else,  and  his  daily 
bread  depends  upon  this  creed  and  no  other — who  shall  say  what, 
after  a  while,  that  man  believes  or  does  not  believe  ?  Red-hot 
words  fall  from  his  lips,  but  they  fall  equally  red-hot  each  week ; 
his  arguments  are  conclusive,  but  they  were  equally  conclusive 
last  week ;  his  logic  is  irresistible  ;  his  encouragement  is  warm 
and  glowing;  but  logic  and  encouragement  alike  are  those  of 
last  week  and  many  weeks  ago— surely,  surely  there  is  no  worse 
fate  possible  for  any  man  than  to  preach,  week  by  week,  any 
form  whatever  of  dogmatic  belief,  and  to  live  by  it ;  surely, 
nothing  can  be  more  deadly  than  to  simulate  zeal,  to  suppress 
doubt,  to  pretend  certainty.  But  this  is  dangerous  ground ; 
because  others  besides  Seventh-day  Independents  may  feel  that 
they  are  upon  it,  and  that  beneath  them  there  are  quagmires. 

"  Come,"  said  Rebekah.  "  We  want  nothing  but  a  fair  hear- 
ing." 

Their  chapel  was  endowed,  which  doubtless  helped  the  flock 
to  keep  together ;  it  had  a  hundred  and  ten  pounds  a  year  be- 
longing to  it,  and  a  little  house  for  the  minister,  and  there  were 
scanty  pew-rents,  which  almost  paid  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
fabric  and  the  old  woman  who  cleaned  the  windows  and  dusted 
the  pews.  If  the  Reverend  Percival  Armitage  gave  up  that 
chapel  he  would  have  no  means  of  subsistence  at  all.  Let  us 
not  impute  motives ;  no  doubt  he  firmly  believed  what  he  taught ; 
but  his  words,  like  his  creed,  were  stereotyped ;  they  had  long 
ceased  to  be  persuasive ;  they  now  served  only  to  preserve. 

If  Angela  had  accepted  that  invitation  for  any  given  day, 
there  would  have  been,  she  knew  very  well,  a  sermon  for  the 
occasion,  conceived,  written,  and  argued  out  expressly  for  her- 
self. And  this  she  did  not  want.  Therefore  she  said  nothing 
at  all  of  her  intentions,  but  chose  one  Saturday  when  there  was 
little  doing  and  she  could  spare  a  forenoon  for  her  visit. 

The  chapel  of  the  Seventh-day  Independents  stands  in  Red- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  311 

man's  Lane,  close  to  the  Advanced  Club  house.  It  is  a  struct- 
ure extremely  plain  and  modest  in  design.  It  was  built  by  an 
architect  who  entertained  humble  views — perhaps  he  was  a 
Churchman — concerning  the  possible  extension  of  the  connec- 
tion, because  the  whole  chapel  if  quite  filled  would  not  hold 
more  than  two  hundred  people.  The  front,  or  facade,  is  flat, 
consisting  of  a  surface  of  gray  brick  wall,  with  a  door  in  the 
middle  and  two  circular  windows,  one  on  each  side.  Over  the 
door  there  are  two  dates — one  of  erection,  the  other  of  restora- 
tion. The  chapel  within  is  a  well-proportioned  room,  with  a 
neat  gallery  running  round  three  sides,  resting  on  low  pillars  and 
painted  a  warm  and  cheerful  drab ;  the  pews  are  painted  of  the 
same  color.  At  the  back  are  two  windows  with  semicircular 
arches,  and  between  the  windows  stands  a  small  railed  platform 
with  a  reading-desk  upon  it  for  the  minister.  Beside  it  are  high 
seats  with  cushions  for  elders,  or  other  ministers  if  there  should 
be  any.  But  these  seats  have  never  been  occupied  in  the  mem- 
ory of  man.  The  pews  are  ranged  in  front  of  the  platform,  and 
they  are  of  the  old  and  high-backed  kind.  It  is  a  wonderful 
— a  truly  wonderful — thing  that  clergymen,  priests,  ministers, 
padres,  rabbis,  and  church  architects,  with  churchwardens,  sides- 
men, vergers,  bishops,  and  chapel-keepers  of  all  persuasions  are 
agreed,  whatever  their  other  differences,  in  the  unalterable  con- 
viction that  it  is  impossible  to  be  religious — that  is,  to  attend 
services  in  a  proper  frame  of  mind — unless  one  is  uncomfortable. 
Therefore  we  are  offered  a  choice :  we  may  sit  in  high-backed, 
narrow-seated  pews,  or  we  may  sit  on  low-backed,  narrow-seated 
benches  :  but  sit  in  comfort  we  may  not.  The  Seventh-day  peo- 
ple have  got  the  high-backed  pew  (which  catches  you  in  the 
shoulder-blade,  and  tries  the  backbone  and  affects  the  brain, 
causing  softening  in  the  long  run),  and  the  narrow  seat  (which 
drags  the  muscles  and  brings  on  premature  paralysis  of  the  lower 
limbs).  The  equally  narrow  low-backed  bench  produces  injuri- 
ous effects  of  a  different  kind,  but  similarly  pernicious.  How 
would  it  be  to  furnish  one  aisle,  at  least,  of  a  church  with  broad, 
low,  and  comfortable  chairs  having  arms  ?  They  should  be  re- 
served for  the  poor,  who  have  so  few  easy-chairs  of  their  own ; 
rightly  managed  and  properly  advertised,  they  might  help  tow- 
ards a  revival  of  religion  among  the  working  classes. 

Above  the  reading-platform  in  this  little  chapel  they  have 
X 


312  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

caused  to  be  painted  on  the  wall  the  Ten  Commandments — the 
fourth  emphasized  in  red — with  a  text  or  two  bearing  on  their 
distinctive  doctrine ;  and  in  the  corner  is  a  door  leading  to  a  lit- 
tle vestry  ;  but,  as  there  are  no  vestments,  its  use  is  not  apparent. 

As  for  the  position  taken  by  these  people,  it  is  perfectly  logi- 
cal, and,  in  fact,  impregnable.  There  is  no  answer  to  it.  They 
say,  "  Here  is  the  Fourth  Commandment.  All  the  rest  you  con- 
tinue to  observe.  Why  not  this  ?  When  was  it  repealed  ?  And 
by  whom  ?"  If  you  put  these  questions  to  bishop  or  presbyter, 
he  has  no  reply.  Because  that  law  never  has  been  repealed. 
Yet,  as  the  people  of  the  connection  complain,  though  they 
have  reason  and  logic  on  their  side,  the  outside  world  will  not 
listen,  and  go  on  breaking  the  commandment  with  light  and 
unthinking  heart.  It  is  a  dreadful  responsibility — albeit  a  grand 
thing — to  be  in  possession  of  so  simple  a  truth  of  such  vast  im- 
portance ;  and  yet  to  get  nobody  ever  to  listen.  The  case  is 
worse  even  than  that  of  Daniel  Fagg. 

Angela  noted  all  these  things  as  she  entered  the  little  chapel 
a  short  time  after  the  service  had  commenced.  It  was  bewilder- 
ing to  step  out  of  the  noisy  streets,  where  the  current  of  Satur- 
day morning  was  at  flood,  into  this  quiet  room  with  its  strange 
service  and  its  strange  flock  of  Nonconformists.  The  thing,  at 
first,  felt  like  a  dream :  the  people  seemed  like  the  ghosts  of  an 
unquiet  mind. 

There  were  very  few  worshippers :  she  counted  them  all : 
four  elderly  men,  two  elderly  women,  three  young  men,  two 
girls,  one  of  whom  was  Rebekah,  and  five  boys.  Sixteen  in  all. 
And  standing  on  the  platform  was  their  leader. 

Rebekah's  father,  the  Rev.  Percival  Armitage,  was  a  shepherd 
who  from  choice  led  his  flock  gently,  along  peaceful  meadows 
and  in  shady,  quiet  places:  he  had  no  prophetic  fire:  he  had 
evidently  long  since  acquiesced  in  the  certain  fact  that  under 
him,  at  least,  whatever  it  might  do  under  others,  the  connection 
would  not  greatly  increase.  Perhaps  he  did  not  himself  desire 
an  increase  which  would  give  him  more  work.  Perhaps  he 
never  had  much  enthusiasm.  By  the  simple  accident  of  birth 
lie  was  a  Seventh-day  Christian ;  being  of  a  bookish  and  unam- 
bitious turn,  and  of  an  indolent  habit  of  body,  mentally  and 
physically  unfitted  for  the  life  of  a  shop,  he  entered  the  minis- 
try ;  in  course  of  time  he  got  this  chapel,  where  he  remained. 


ALL    SORTS  AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  313 

tolerably  satisfied  with  his  lot  in  life,  a  simple,  self-educated, 
mildly  pious  person,  equipped  with  the  phrases  of  his  craft,  and 
comforted  with  the  consciousness  of  superiority  and  separation. 
He  looked  up  from  his  book  in  a  gentle  surprise  when  Angela 
entered  the  chapel :  it  was  seldom  that  a  stranger  was  seen 
there :  once,  not  long  ago,  there  was  a  boy  who  had  put  his 
head  in  at  the  door  and  shouted  "  Hoo !"  and  run  away  again : 
once  there  was  a  drunken  sailor  who  thought  it  was  a  public- 
house,  and  sat  down  and  began  to  sing,  and  wouldn't  go,  and 
had  to  be  shoved  out  by  the  united  efforts  of  the  whole  small 
congregation ;  when  he  was  gone,  they  sang  an  extra  hymn  to 
restore  a  religious  calm :  but  never  a  young  lady  before.  Angela 
took  her  seat  amid  the  wondering  looks  of  the  people,  and  the 
minister  went  on  in  a  perfunctory  way  with  his  prayers  and  his 
hymns  and  his  exposition.  There  certainly  did  seem  to  an  out- 
sider a  want  of  heart  about  the  service,  but  that  might  have  been 
due  to  the  emptiness  of  the  pews.  When  it  came  to  the  sermon, 
Angela  thought  the  preacher  spoke  and  looked  as  if  the  limit  of 
endurance  had  at  last  almost  arrived,  and  he  would  not  much 
longer  endure  the  inexpressible  dreariness  of  the  conventicle. 
It  was  not  so :  he  was  always  mildly  sad :  he  seemed  always  a 
little  bored  :  it  was  no  use  pretending  to  be  eloquent  any  more  : 
fireworks  were  thrown  away ;  and,  as  for  what  he  had  to  say, 
the  congregation  always  had  the  same  thing,  looked  for  the  same 
thing,  and  would  have  risen  in  revolt  at  the  suggestion  of  a  new 
thing.  His  sermon  was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  may  be 
heard  any  day  in  church  or  chapel ;  nor  was  there  anything  in 
it  to  distinguish  it  from  the  sermons  of  any  other  body  of  Chris- 
tians. The  outsider  left  off  listening  and  began  to  think  of  the 
congregation.  In  the  pew  with  her  was  a  man  of  sixty  or  so, 
with  long  black  hair  streaked  with  gray,  brushed  back  behind 
his  ears :  he  was  devout  and  followed  the  prayers  audibly,  and 
sang  the  hymns  out  of  a  manuscript  music-book,  and  read  the 
text  critically  :  his  face  was  the  face  of  a  bull-dog  for  resolution. 
The  man,  she  thought,  would  enjoy  going  to  the  stake  for  his 
opinions ;  and  if  the  Seventh-day  Independents  were  to  be  made 
the  National  Established  Church,  he  would  secede  the  week  after 
and  make  a  new  sect,  if  only  by  himself.  Such  men  are  not 
happy  under  authority  :  their  freedom  of  thought  is  as  the  breath 
of  their  nostrils,  and  they  cannot  think  like  other  people.  He 
14 


314  ALL    SORTS    AND   CONDITIONS    OF  MEN. 

was  not  well-dressed,  and  was  probably  a  shoemaker  or  some 
such  craftsman.  In  front  of  her  sat  a  family  of  three  :  the  wife 
was  attired  in  a  sealskin  rich  and  valuable,  and  the  son,  a  young 
man  of  one  or  two  and  twenty,  had  the  dress  and  appearance  of 
a  gentleman — that  is  to  say,  of  what  passes  for  such  in  common 
City  parlance.  What  did  these  people  do  in  such  a  place  ?  Yet, 
they  were  evidently  of  the  religion.  Then  she  noticed  a  widow 
and  her  boy :  the  widow  was  not  young ;  probably,  Angela 
thought,  she  had  married  late  in  life  :  her  lips  were  thin  and 
her  face  was  stern.  "  The  boy,"  thought  Angela,  "  will  have  the 
doctrine  administered  with  faithfulness."  Only  sixteen  all  to- 
gether :  yet  all,  except  the  pastor,  seemed  to  be  grimly  in  ear- 
nest and  inordinately  proud  of  their  sect.  It  was  as  if  the  emp- 
tiness of  their  benches  and  their  forsaken  condition  called  upon 
them  to  put  on  a  greater  show  of  zeal  and  to  persuade  them- 
selves that  the  cause  was  worth  fighting  for.  The  preacher 
alone  seemed  to  have  lost  heart.  But  his  people,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  him,  did  not  notice  this  despondency. 

Then  Angela,  while  the  sermon  went  slowly  on,  began  to 
speculate  on  the  conditions  of  belonging  to  such  a  sect.  First 
of  all,  with  the  apparent  exception  of  the  lady  in  sealskin  and 
her  husband  and  son,  the  whole  sixteen — perhaps  another  two 
or  three  were  prevented  from  attending — were  of  quite  the  lower 
middle  class ;  they  belonged  to  the  great  stratum  of  society 
whose  ignorance  is  as  profound  as  their  arguments  arc  loud. 
But  the  uncomfortableness  of  it !  They  can  do  no  work  on  the 
Saturday — "  neither  their  man-servant  nor  their  maid-servant " — 
their  shops  are  closed  and  their  tools  put  aside.  They  lose  a 
sixth  part  of  the  working  time.  The  followers  of  this  creed  are 
as  much  separated  from  their  fellows  as  the  Jews.  On  the  Sun- 
day they  may  work  if  they  please,  but  on  that  day  all  the  world 
is  at  church  or  at  play.  Angela  looked  round  again.  Yes  ;  the 
whole  sixteen  had  upon  their  faces  the  look  of  pride  ;  they  were 
proud  of  being  separated ;  it  was  a  distinction,  just  as  it  is  to  be 
a  Samaritan.  Who  would  not  be  one  of  the  recipients,  however 
few  they  be  in  number,  of  truth?  And  what  a  grand  thing, 
what  an  inspiriting  thing  it  is  to  feel  that  some  day  or  other, 
perhaps  not  to-day  nor  to-morrow,  nor  in  one's  lifetime  at  all, 
the  whole  world  will  rally  round  the  poor  little  obscure  banner, 
and  shout  all  together,  with  voice  of  thunder,  the  battle-cry 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  315 

which  now  sounds  no  louder  than  a  puny  whistle-pipe !  Yet, 
on  the  whole,  Angela  felt  it  must  be  an  uncomfortable  creed; 
better  to  be  one  of  the  undistinguished  crowd  which  flocks  to 
the  parish  church  and  yearns  not  for  any  distinctions  at  all. 
Then  the  sermon  ended  and  they  sang  another  hymn — the  col- 
lection in  use  was  a  volume  printed  in  New  York  and  compiled 
by  the  committee  of  the  connection,  so  that  there  were,  mani- 
festly, congregations  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  living  in 
the  same  discomfort  of  separation. 

At  the  departure  of  the  people  Rebekah  hurried  out  first  and 
waited  in  the  doorway  to  greet  Angela. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come  some  day,"  she  said ;  "  but  oh !  I 
wish  you  had  told  me  when  you  were  coming,  so  that  father 
might  have  given  one  of  his  doctrine  sermons.  What  we  had 
to-day  was  only  one  of  the  comfortable  discourses  to  the  pro- 
fessed members  of  the  church  which  we  all  love  so  much,  I 
am  so  sorry.     Oh,  he  would  convince  you  in  ten  minutes !" 

"  But,  Rebekah,"  said  Angela,  "  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  seen 
your  service  otherwise  than  is  usual.  Tell  me,  does  the  congre- 
gation of  to-day  represent  all  your  strength  ?" 

Rebekah  colored.  She  could  not  deny  that  they  were,  numer- 
ically, a  feeble  folk.  "  We  rely,"  she  said,  "  on  the  strength  of 
our  cause — and  some  day — oh,  some  day  ! — the  world  will  rally 
round  us.  See,  Miss  Kennedy,  here  is  father ;  when  he  has  said 
good-bye  to  the  people" — he  was  talking  to  the  lady  in  sealskin 
— "  he  will  come  and  speak  to  us." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Angela,  "  that  this  lady  is  a  member  of 
your  chapel  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Rebekah  whispered ;  "  oh,  they  are  quite  rich  people 
— the  only  rich  people  we  have.  They  live  at  Leytonstone ; 
they  made  their  money  in  the  bookbinding,  and  are  consistent 
Christians.  Father" — for  at  this  point  Mr.  Armitage  left  his 
rich  followers  in  the  porch — •"  this  is  Miss  Kennedy,  of  whom 
you  have  heard  so  much." 

Mr.  Armitage  took  her  hand  with  a  weary  smile,  and  asked 
Rebekah  if  Miss  Kennedy  would  come  home  with  her. 

They  lived  in  a  small  house  next  door  to  the  chapel.  It  was 
so  small  that  there  was  but  one  sitting-room,  and  this  was  filled 
with  books. 

*'  Father  likes  to  sit  here,"  said  Rebekah,  "  by  himself  all  day. 


316  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

He  is  quite  happy  if  he  is  let  alone.  Sometimes,  howerer,  he 
has  to  go  to  Leytonstone." 

"  To  the  rich  people  ?" 

"  Yes."  Rebekah  looked  troubled.  "  A  minister  must  visit 
his  flock,  you  know ;  and  if  they  were  to  leave  us  it  would  be 
bad  for  us,  because  the  endowment  is  only  a  hundred  and  ten 
pounds  a  year,  and  out  of  that  the  church  and  the  house  have 
got  to  be  kept  in  repair.  However,  a  clergyman  must  not  be 
dictated  to,  and  I  tell  father  he  should  go  his  own  way  and 
preach  his  own  sermons.  Whatever  people  say,  truth  must  not 
be  hidden  away  as  if  we  were  ashamed  of  it.  Hush !  Here 
he  is." 

The  good  man  welcomed  Angela,  and  said  some  simple  words 
of  gratitude  about  her  reception  of  his  daughter.  He  had  a  good 
face,  but  he  wore  an  anxious  expression,  as  if  something  was 
always  on  his  mind.  And  he  sighed  when  he  sat  down  at  his 
table. 

Angela  stayed  for  half  an  hour,  but  the  minister  said  nothing 
more  to  her,  only  when  she  rose  to  go  he  murmured,  with  an- 
other heavy  sigh,  "  There's  an  afternoon  service  at  three," 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  say  whether  he  intended  this  an- 
nouncement as  an  invitation  to  Angela,  or  whether  it  was  a  com- 
plaint, wrung  from  a  heavy  heart,  of  a  trouble  almost  intolerable. 


CHAPTER  XXXVin. 

I     AM     THE     DRESSMAKER.* 


It  happened  on  this  very  same  Saturday,  that  Lord  Jocelyn, 
feeling  a  little  low,  and  craving  for  speech  with  his  ward,  re- 
solved that  he  would  pay  a  personal  visit  to  him  in  his  own  den, 
where,  no  doubt,  he  would  find  him  girt  with  a  fair  white  apron 
and  crowned  with  brown  paper,  proudly  standing  among  a  lot  of 
his  brother  workmen — glorious  fellows ! — and  up  to  his  knees  in 
shavings. 

It  is  easy  to  take  a  cab  and  tell  the  driver  to  go  to  the  Mile 
End  Road :  had  Lord  Jocelyn  taken  more  prudent  counsel  with 
himself,  he  would  have  bidden  him  drive  straight  to  Messenger's 
Brewery ;  but  he  got  down  where  the  Whitechapel  Road  ends 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  317 

and  the  Mile  End  Road  begins,  thinking  that  he  would  find  his 
way  to  the  Brewery  with  the  greatest  ease.  First,  however,  he 
asked  the  way  of  a  lady  with  a  basket  on  her  arm ;  it  was,  in 
fact,  Mrs.  Bormalack  going  a-marketing,  and  anxious  about  the 
price  of  greens ;  and  he  received  a  reply  so  minute,  exact,  and 
bewildering,  that  he  felt,  as  he  plunged  into  the  labyrinthine 
streets  of  Stepney,  like  one  who  dives  into  the  dark  and  devious 
ways  of  the  catacombs. 

First  of  all,  of  course,  he  lost  himself;  but  as  the  place  was 
strange  to  him,  and  a  strange  place  is  always  curious,  he  walked 
along  in  great  contentment.  Nothing  remarkable  in  the  streets 
and  houses,  unless,  perhaps,  the  entire  absence  of  anything  to 
denote  inequality  of  wealth  and  position ;  so  that,  he  thought 
with  satisfaction,  the  happy  residents  in  Stepney  all  receive  the 
same  salaries  and  make  the  same  income,  contribute  the  same 
amount  to  the  tax-collectors,  and  pay  the  same  rent.  A  beauti- 
ful continuity  of  sameness;  a  divine  monotony  realizing  par- 
tially the  dreams  of  the  socialist.  Presently  he  came  upon  a 
great  building  which  seemed  rapidly  approaching  completion ; 
not  a  beautiful  building,  but  solid,  big,  well-proportioned,  and 
constructed  of  real  red  brick,  and  without  the  "  Queen  Anne " 
conceits  which  mostly  go  with  that  material.  It  was  so  large 
and  so  well  built  that  it  was  evidently  intended  for  some  special 
purpose — a  purpose  of  magnitude  and  responsibility,  requiring 
capital ;  not  a  factory,  because  the  windows  were  large  and  evi- 
dently belonged  to  great  halls,  and  there  were  none  of  the  little 
windows  in  rows  which  factories  must  have  in  the  nature  of 
things ;  not  a  prison,  because  prisons  are  parsimonious  to  a  fault 
in  the  matter  of  external  windows ;  nor  a  school — yet  it  might 
be  a  school ;  then — how  should  so  great  a  school  be  built  in 
Stepney  ?  It  might  be  a  superior  almshouse,  or  a  union — yet 
this  could  hardly  be.  While  Lord  Jocelyn  looked  at  the  building, 
a  workingman  lounged  along,  presumably  an  out-of-work  work- 
ingman,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  kicking  stray  stones 
in  the  road — which  is  a  sign  of  the  penniless  pocket,  because  he 
who  yet  can  boast  the  splendid  shilling  does  not  slouch  as  he 
goes,  or  kick  stones  in  the  road,  but  holds  his  head  erect  and 
anticipates  with  pleasure  six  half-pints  in  the  immediate  future. 
Lord  Jocelyn  asked  that  industrious  idle,  or  idle  industrious,  if 
he  knew  the  object  of  the  building.     The  man  replied  that  he 


318  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    Ol\  MEN. 

did  not  know  the  object  of  the  building ;  and  to  make  it  quite 
manifest  that  he  really  did  not  know,  he  put  an  adjective  before 
the  word  "  object,"  and  another — that  is,  the  same — before  the 
word  "  building."  With  that  he  passed  upon  his  way,  and  Lord 
Jocelyn  was  left  marvelling  at  .the  slender  resources  of  our  lan- 
guage, which  makes  one  adjective  do  duty  for  so  many  qualifi- 
cations. Presently,  he  came  suddenly  upon  Stepney  Church, 
which  is  a  landmark  or  initial  point,  like  the  man  on  the  chair 
in  the  maze  of  Hampton  Coirt.  Here  he  again  asked  his  way, 
and  then,  after  finding  it  and  losing  it  again  about  six  times 
more,  and  being  generally  treated  with  contumely  for  not  know- 
ing so  simple  a  thing,  he  found  himself  actually  at  the  gates  of 
the  Brewery,  which  he  might  have  reached  in  five  minutes  had 
he  gone  the  shortest  way. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  property  of  that  remarkably  beau- 
tiful girl.  Miss  Messenger ;  who  could  wish  to  start  better  ?  She 
is  young ;  she  is  charming ;  she  is  queenly ;  she  is  fabulously 
rich ;  she  is  clever ;  she  is — ah !  if  only  Harry  had  met  her  be- 
fore he  became  an  ass  !" 

He  passed  the  gate  and  entered  the  courtyard,  at  one  side  of 
which  he  saw  a  door  on  which  was  painted  the  word  "  Office." 
The  Brewery  was  conservative ;  what  was  now  a  hive  of  clerks 
and  writers  was  known  by  the  same  name  and  stood  upon  the 
same  spot  as  the  little  room  built  by  itself  in  the  open  court  in 
which  King  Messenger  I.,  the  inventor  of  the  Entire,  had  trans- 
acted by  himself,  having  no  clerks  at  all,  the  whole  business  of 
the  infant  Brewery  for  his  great  invention.  Lord  Jocelyn  pushed 
open  the  door  and  stood  irresolute :  looking  about  him,  a  clerk 
advanced  and  asked  his  business.  Lord  Jocelyn  was  the  most 
polite  and  considerate  of  men ;  he  took  off  his  hat  humbly, 
bowed,  and  presented  his  card. 

"I  am  most  sorry  to  give  trouble,"  he  said;  "I  came  to 
see—" 

"  Certainly,  my  lord."  The  clerk,  having  been  introduced  to 
Lord  Davenant,  was  no  longer  afraid  of  tackling  a  title,  however 
grand,  and  would  have  been  pleased  to  show  his  familiarity  with 
the  great  even  to  a  royal  highness.  **  Certainly,  my  lord ;  if 
your  lordship  will  be  so  good  as  to  write  your  lordship's  name 
in  the  visitors'  book,  a  guide  shall  take  your  lordship  round  the 
Brewery  immediately." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  319 

"  Thank  you,  I  do  not  wish  to  see  the  Brewery,"  said  the 
visitor.  "  1  came  to  see  a — a — a  young  man,  who,  I  believe, 
works  in  the  establishment ;  his  name  is  Goslett." 

"  Oh !"  replied  the  clerk,  taken  aback ;  "  Goslett !  can  any 
one,"  he  asked  generally  of  the  room  which  he  had  just  left, 
"  tell  me  whether  there's  a  man  working  here  named  Goslett  V 

Josephus — for  it  was  the  junior's  room — knew  and  indicated 
the  place  and  the  man. 

"  If,  my  lord,"  said  the  clerk,  loath  to  separate  himself  from 
nobility,  "your  lordship  will  be  good  enough  to  follow  me,  I 
can  take  your  lordship  to  the  man  your  lordship  wants.  Quite 
a  common  man,  my  lord — quite.  A  joiner  and  carpenter.  But 
if  your  lordship  wants  to  see  him — " 

He  led  Lord  Jocelyn  across  the  court,  and  left  him  at  the  door 
of  Harry's  workshop. 

It  was  not  a  great  room  with  benches,  and  piles  of  shavings, 
and  a  number  of  men.  Not  at  all :  there  were  racks  with  tools, 
a  bench,  and  a  lathe ;  there  were  pieces  of  furniture  about  wait- 
ing repair ;  there  was  an  unfinished  cabinet  with  delicate  carved 
work,  which  Lord  Jocelyn  recognized  at  once  as  the  handiwork 
of  his  boy ;  and  the  boy  himself  stood  in  the  room,  his  coat  off 
and  his  cuffs  turned  up,  contemplating  the  cabinet.  It  is  one  of 
the  privileges  of  the  trade  that  it  allows — nay,  requires — a  good 
deal  of  contemplation.  Presently  Harry  turned  his  head  and 
saw  his  guardian  standing  in  the  doorway.  He  greeted  him 
cheerfully  and  led  him  into  the  room,  where  he  found  a  chair 
with  four  legs  and  begged  him  to  sit  down  and  talk. 

"  You  like  it,  Harry  ?" 

Harry  laughed.  "  Why  not  ?"  he  said.  "  You  see,  I  am 
independent,  practically.  They  pay  me  pretty  well  according 
to  the  work  that  comes  in.  Plain  work,  you  see  —  joiners' 
work." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see.     But  how  long,  my  boy — how  long  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  cannot  say.     Why  not  all  my  life  ?" 

Lord  Jocelyn  groaned. 

"  I  admit,"  said  Harry,  "  that  if  things  were  different  I  should 
have  gone  back  to  you  long  ago.     But  now  I  cannot,  unless — " 

"  Unless  what  ?" 

"Unless  the  girl  who  keeps  me  here  goes  away  herself  or 
bids  me  go." 


320  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"Then  you  are  really  engaged  to  the  dress — I  mean — the 
young  lady  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  not.  Nor  has  she  shown  the  least  sign  of  accept- 
ing me.     Yet  I  am  her  devoted  and  humble  servant." 

"  Is  she  a  witch — this  woman  ?  Good  heavens,  Harry  !  Can 
you,  who  have  associated  with  the  most  beautiful  and  best-bred 
women  in  the  world,  be  so  infatuated  about  a  dressmaker?" 

"  It  is  strange,  is  it  not  ?  But  it  is  true.  The  thought  of  her 
fills  my  mind  day  and  night.  I  see  her  constantly.  There  is 
never  one  word  of  love,  but  she  knows  already,  without  that 
word." 

"  Strange  indeed  !"  repeated  Lord  Jocelyn  ;  *'  but  it  will  pass. 
You  will  awake,  and  find  yourself  again  in  your  right  mind, 
Harry." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  From  this  madness,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  never-recover.  For 
it  is  my  life,  whatever  happens.     I  am  her  servant." 

"  It  is  incomprehensible,"  replied  his  guardian.  "  You  were 
always  chivalrous  in  your  ideas  of  women.  They  are  unusual 
in  young  men  of  the  present  day,  but  they  used  to  sit  well  upon 
you.     Then,  however,  your  ideal  was  a  lady." 

"  It  is  a  lady  still,"  said  the  lover,  "  and  yet  a  dressmaker. 
How  this  can  be  I  do  not  know  ;  but  it  is.  In  the  old  days  men 
became  the  servants  of  ladies.  1  know,  now,  what  a  good  cus- 
toni  it  was,  and  how  salutary  to  the  men.  Petit  Jehan  de  Sain- 
tre  in  his  early  days  had  the  best  of  all  possible  training." 

"  But  if  Petit  Jehan  had  lived  at  Stepney — " 

**  Then  there  is  another  thing.     The  life  here  is  useful." 

"  You  now  tinker  chairs  and  get  paid  a  shilling  an  hour. 
Formerly  you  made  dainty  carved  work-boxes,  and  fans,  and 
pretty  things  for  ladies,  and  got  paid  by  their  thanks.  Which 
is  the  more  useful  life  ?" 

"  It  is  not  the  work  I  am  thinking  of.  It  is  the —  Do  you 
remember  what  I  said  the  last  time  I  saw  you  ?" 

"  Perfectly.  About  your  fellow-creatures,  was  it  not  ?  My 
dear  Harry,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  our  fellow-men  get  on  very  well 
in  their  own  way,  without  our  interference." 

"  Yes  :  that  is  to  say — no  :  they  are  all  getting  on  as  badly  as 
possible.  And  somehow  I  want,  before  I  go  away,  to  find  out 
what  it  is  they  want — they  don't  know — and  how  they  should 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN.  321 

set  about  getting  it  if  it  is  to  be  got ;  as  I  think  it  is.  You  will 
not  think  me  a  prig,  sir  ?" 

"  You  will  never  be  a  prig,  Harry,  under  any  circumstances. 
Does,  then,  the  lady  of  your  worship  approve  of  this — this  study 
of  humanity  ?" 

"  Perfectly.  If  this  lady  did  not  approve  of  it,  I  should  not 
be  engaged  upon  it." 

"  Harry,  will  you  take  me  to  see  this  goddess  of  Stepney 
Green  ?     It  is  there,  I  believe,  that  she  resides  ?" 

"  Yes — I  would  rather  not — yet."  The  young  man  hesitated 
for  a  moment.  "  Miss  Kennedy  thinks  I  have  always  been  a 
workingman.  I  would  not  undeceive  her  yet.  I  would  rather 
she  did  not  know  that  I  have  given  up — for  her  sake — such  a 
man  as  you,  and  such  companionship  as  yours." 

He  held  out  both  his  hands  to  his  guardian,  and  his  eyes  for 
a  moment  were  dim.  Lord  Jocelyn  made  no  reply  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  cleared  his  throat  and  said  he  must  go,  and  asked 
Harry  rather  piteously  if  he  could  do  nothing  for  him  at  all,  and 
made  slowly  for  the  door.  The  clerk  who  had  received  the  dis- 
tinguished visitor  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  office  wait- 
ing for  another  glimpse  of  the  noble  and  illustrious  personage. 
Presently  he  came  back  and  reported  that  his  lordship  had 
crossed  the  yard  on  the  arm  of  the  young  man  called  Goslett, 
and  that  on  parting  with  him  he  had  shaken  him  by  the  hand 
and  called  him  "  my  boy."  Whereat  many  marvelled,  and  the 
thing  was  a  stumbling-block,  but  Josephus  said  it  was  not  at  all 
unusual  for  members  of  his  family  to  be  singled  out  by  the  great 
for  high  positions  of  trust ;  that  his  own  father  had  been  church- 
warden of  Stepney,  and  he  was  a  far-off  cousin  of  Miss  Messen- 
ger's, and  that  he  could  himself  have  been  by  this  time  super- 
intendent of  his  Sunday-school  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  mis- 
fortunes. Presently  the  thing  was  told  to  the  chief  accountant, 
who  told  it  to  the  chief  brewer,  and,  if  there  had  been  a  chief 
baker,  one  knows  not  what  would  have  happened. 

Lord  Jocelyn  walked  slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  Stepney 
Green.  She  lived  there,  did  she  ?  Oh !  and  her  name  was  Miss 
Kennedy.  Ah !  and  a  man  by  calling  upon  her  might  see  her. 
Very  good.  He  would  call.  He  would  say  that  he  was  the 
guardian  of  Harry,  and  that  he  took  a  warm  interest  in  him,  and 
that  the  boy  was  pining  away  (which  was  not  true),  and  that  he 
14* 


322  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

called  to  know  if  Miss  Kennedy,  as  a  friend,  could  divine  the 
cause  (which  was  crafty).  Quite  a  little  domestic  drama  he 
made  up  in  his  own  mind,  which  would  have  done  beautifully 
had  it  not  been  completely  shattered  by  the  surprising  things 
which  happened,  as  will  immediately  be  seen. 

Presently  he  arrived  at  Stepney  Green,  and  stopped  to  look 
about  him.  A  quiet  George-the-Third-looking  place,  with  many 
good  and  solid  houses,  and  a  narrow  strip  of  garden  running 
down  the  middle.  In  which  of  these  houses  did  Miss  Kennedy 
dwell? 

There  came  along  the  asphalt  walk  an  old,  old  man ;  he  was 
feeble,  and  tottered  as  he  went ;  he  wore  a  black  silk  stock  and 
a  buttoned-up  frock-coat ;  his  face  was  wrinkled  and  creased. 
It  was,  in  fact,  Mr.  Maliphant  going,  rather  late,  because  he  had 
fallen  asleep  by  the  fire,  to  protect  the  property.  Lord  Jocelyn 
asked  him  politely  if  he  would  tell  him  where  Miss  Kennedy 
lived. 

The  patriarch  looked  up,  laughed  joyously,  and  shook  his  head. 
Then  he  said  something  inaudibly,  but  his  lips  moved.  And 
then,  pointing  to  a  large  house  on  the  right,  he  said,  aloud, 

'*  Caroline  Coppin's  house  it  was.  She  that  married  Sergeant 
Goslett.  Mr.  Messenger,  whose  grandmother  was  a  Coppin  and 
a  good  old  Whitechapel  family,  had  the  deeds.  My  memory  is 
not  so  good  as  usual  this  morning,  young  man,  or  I  could  tell 
you  who  had  the  house  before  Caroline's  father.  But  I  think  it 
was  old  Mr.  Messeng^,  because  the  young  man  who  died  the 
other  day,  and  was  only  a  year  or  two  older  than  me,  was  born 
there  himself."  Then  he  went  on  his  way  lauglring  and  wag- 
ging his  head. 

"  That  is  a  wonderful  old  man,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  Caro- 
line Coppin's  house :  that  is,  Harry's  mother's  house.  Pity  he 
couldn't  keep  it  for  her  son.  The  sergeant  was  a  thrifty  man, 
too.     Here  is  another  native.     Let  us  try  him." 

This  time  it  was  Daniel  Fagg,  and  in  one  of  his  despondent 
moods,  because  none  of  the  promised  proofs  had  arrived. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,"  asked  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  where  Miss 
Kennedy  lives?" 

The  *'  native,"  who  had  sandy  hair  and  a  gray  beard  and  im- 
mense sandy  eyebrows,  turned  upon  him  fiercely,  shaking  a  long 
finger  in  his  face  as  if  it  were  a  sword. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  323 

"  Mind  you,"  he  growled,  "  Miss  Kennedy's  the  only  man 
among  you.  Talk  of  your  scholars  !  Gar  !  Jealousy  and  envy ! 
But  I've  remembered  her.  Posterity  shall  know  her  when  the 
head  of  the  Egyptian  department  is  dead  and  forgotten." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  as  the  man  left  him  ;  "  I  am 
likely  to  be  forwarded  at  this  rate." 

He  tried  again. 

This  time  it  happened  to  be  none  other  than  Mr.  Bunker.  The 
events  of  the  last  few  weeks  were  preying  upon  his  mind.  He 
thought  continually  of  handcuffs  and  prisons  :  he  was  nervous 
and  agitated. 

But  he  replied  courteously,  and  pointed  out  the  house. 

"  Ah !"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  that  is  the  house  which  an  old 
man  whom  I  have  just  asked  said  was  Caroline  Coppin's." 

"  Old  man  ?  What  old  rtian  ?"  Mr.  Bunker  turned  pale.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  atmosphere  itself  was  full  of  dangers.  "  'Ouse 
was  whose  ?     "  That  'ouse,  sir,  is  mine — mine,  do  you  hear  ?" 

Lord  Jocelyn  described  the  old  man.  In  fact  he  was  yet  with- 
in sight. 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Mr.  Bunker.  "  He's  mad,  that  old 
man.  Silly  with  age.  Nobody  minds  him.  That  'ouse,  sir,  is 
mine." 

"  Oh  !  and  you,"  for  Lord  Jocelyn  now  recollected  him,  "  are 
Mr.  Bunker,  are  you  ?  Do  you  not  remember  me  ?  Think, 
man." 

Mr.  Bunker  thought  his  hardest ;  but  if  you  do  not  remem- 
ber a  man,  you  might  as  well  stand  on  your  head  as  begin  to 
think. 

"  Twenty  years  ago,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  I  took  away  your 
nephew,  who  has  now  come  back  here." 

"  You  did — you  did,"  cried  Bunker,  eagerly.  "  Ah  !  sir,  why 
did  you  let  him  come  back  here  ?  A  bad  business,  a  bad  busi- 
ness !" 

"  I  came  to  see  him  to-day,  perhaps  to  ask  him  why  he  stays 
here." 

"  Take  him  away  again,  sir.  Don't  let  him  stay.  Rocks  ahead, 
sir !"  Mr.  Bunker  put  up  his  hands  in  warning.  "  When  I  see 
youth  going  to  capsize  on  virtue,  it  makes  my  blood,  as  a  Chris- 
tian man,  to  curdle.     Take  him  away." 

"  Certainly.     It  does  you  great  credit,  Mr.  Bunker,  as  a  Chris- 


324  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN. 

tian  man,  because  curdled  blood  must  be  unpleasant.  But — 
what  rocks?" 

"  A  rock.  One  rock,  a  woman.  In  that  'ouse,  sir,  she  lives. 
Her  name  is  Miss  Kennedy.  That  is  what  she  calls  herself. 
She's  a  dressmaker  by  trade,  she  says,  and  a  captivator  of  fool- 
ish young  men  by  nature.  Don't  go  anigh  her.  She  may  cap- 
tivate you.  Daniel  Fagg  made  her  an  offer  of  marriage,  and 
he's  sixty.  He  confessed  it  to  me.  She  tried  it  on  with  me, 
but  a  man  of  principles  is  proof.  The  conjurer  wanted  to 
marry  her.     My  nephew,  Dick  Coppin,  is  a  fool  about  her." 

"  She  must  be  a  very  remarkable  woman,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn. 

"  As  for  that  boy,  Harry  Goslett " — Bunker  uttered  the  name 
with  an  obvious  effort — "  he's  farther  gone  than  all  the  rest  put 
together.  M  it  wasn't  for  her,  he  would  go  back  to  where  he 
came  from." 

"  Ah  !  and  where  is  that  ?" 

"  Don't  you  know,  then  ?  You,  the  man  who  took  him  away  ? 
Don't  you  know  where  he  came  from.  Was  it  something  very 
bad?" 

There  was  a  look  of  eager  malignity  about  the  man's  face  ;  he 
wanted  to  hear  something  bad  about  his  nephew. 

Lord  Jocelyn  encouraged  him. 

"  Perhaps  I  know,  perhaps  I  do  not." 

"  A  disgraceful  story,  no  doubt,"  said  Bunker,  with  a  pleased 
smile.  "  I  dreaded  the  worst  when  I  saw  him  with  his  white 
hands  and  his  sneerin',  fleerin'  ways.  I  thought  of  Newgate  and 
jail-birds ;  I  did,  indeed,  at  once.  Oh !  prophetic  soul.  Well, 
now  we  know  the  worst ;  and  you  had  better  take  him  away  be- 
fore all  the  world  knows  it.     I  sha'n't  talk,  of  course." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Bunker.  And  about  this  Miss  Kennedy — 
is  there  anything  against  her,  except  that  the  men  fall  in  love 
with  her  ?" 

"There  is  plenty  against  her.  But  I'm  not  the  man  to  take 
away  a  woman's  character.  Reports  about  her  that  would  as- 
tonish you.  If  all  secrets  were  known,  we  should  find  what  a 
viper  we've  been  cherishing.  At  the  end  of  her  year  out  she 
goes  of  my  'ousc.  Bag  and  baggage,  she  goes.  And  wherever 
she  goes  that  boy'll  go  after  her,  unless  you  prevent  it." 

"  Thank  you  again,  Mr.  Bunker.     Good-morning." 

Angela,  just  returned  from  her  chapel,  was  sitting  at  the  witt 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN.  326 

dow  of  the  workroom  in  her  usual  place.  She  looked  out  upon 
the  Green  now  and  again.  Presently  she  saw  Mr.  Maliphant 
creep  slowly  along  the  pavement,  and  observed  that  he  stopped 
and  spoke  to  a  gentleman ;  then  she  saw  Daniel  Fagg  swinging 
his  arms  and  gesticulating  as  he  rehearsed  to  himself  the  story 
of  his  wrongs,  and  he  stopped  and  spoke  to  the  same  man  ;  then 
she  saw  Mr.  Bunker  walking  moodily  on  his  way — and  he  stopped 
too,  and  conversed  with  the  stranger.  Then  he  turned,  and  she 
saw  his  face.  It  was  Lord  Jocelyn  Lc  Breton,  and  he  was  walk- 
ing with  intention  towards  her  own  door. 

She  divined  the  truth  in  a  moment.  He  was  coming  to  see 
"  the  dressmaker  "  who  had  bewitched  his  boy. 

She  whispered  to  Nelly  that  a  gentleman  was  coming  to  see 
her  who  must  be  shown  up-stairs ;  she  took  refuge  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, which  was  happily  empty,  and  she  awaited  him  with 
a  beating  heart. 

She  heard  his  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  The  door  opened.  She 
rose  to  meet  him. 

"  You  here,  Miss  Messenger  ?     This  is  indeed  a  surprise." 

"  No,  Lord  Jocelyn,"  she  replied,  confused,  yet  trying  to  speak 
confidently.  *'  In  this  house,  if  you  please,  I  am  not  Miss  Mes- 
senger ;  I  am  Miss  Kennedy,  the — the — "  now  she  remembered 
exactly  what  her  next  words  would  mean  to  him,  and  she  blushed 
violently — "  I  am — the — the  dressmaker." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THRICE   HAPPY  BOY. 


A  MAN  of  the  world  at  forty-five  seldom  feels  surprised  at 
anything,  unless,  indeed,  like  Moliere,  he  encounters  virtue  in 
unexpected  quarters.  This,  however,  was  a  thing  so  extraordi- 
nary that  Lord  Jocelyn  gasped. 

"  Pardon  me.  Miss  Messenger,"  he  said,  recovering  himself, 
"  I  was  so  totally  unprepared  for  this — this  discovery." 

"  Now  that  you  have  made  it,  Lord  Jocelyn,  may  I  ask  you 
most  earnestly  to  reveal  it  to  no  one  ?  I  mean  no  one  at 
ally 

"  I  understand  perfectly.     Yes,  Miss  Messenger,  I  will  keep 


326  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

your  secret,  since  it  is  a  secret.  I  will  tell  it  to  none.  But  I 
would  ask  a  favor  in  return,  if  I  may." 

"  Wlmt  is  that  f 

"  Take  me  further  into  your  confidence.  Let  me  know  Avhy 
you  have  done  this  most  wonderful  thing.  I  hope  I  am  not  im- 
pertinent iu  asking  this  of  you." 

"  Not  impertinent,  certainly.  And  the  thing  must  seem  strange 
to  you.  And  after  what  you  told  me  some  time  ago  about — " 
she  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  turned  her  clear  brown  eyes 
straight  upon  his  face — "  about  your  ward,  perhaps  some  ex- 
planation is  due  to  you." 

"  Thank  you  beforehand.'" 

"  First,  however,  call  me  Miss  Kennedy  here ;  pray — ^pray  do 
not  forget  that  there  is  no  Miss  Messenger  nearer  than  Portman 
Square." 

"  I  will  try  to  remember." 

"  I  came  here,"  she  went  on,  "  last  July,  having  a  certain  pur- 
pose and  a  certain  problem  in  my  mind.  I  have  remained  here 
ever  since,  working  at  that  problem.  It  is  not  nearly  worked 
out  yet,  nor  do  I  think  that  in  the  longest  life  it  could  be  worked 
out.  It  is  a  most  wonderful  problem.  For  one  thing  leads  to 
another,  and  great  schemes  rise  out  of  small,  and  there  are  hun- 
dreds of  plans  springing  out  of  one — if  I  could  only  carry  them 
out." 

"To  assist  you  in  carrying  them  out,  you  have  secured  the 
services  of  my  ward,  I  learn." 

"  Yes  ;  he  has  been  very  good  to  me." 

"  I  have  never,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  been  greatly  tempted  in 
the  direction  of  philanthropy.     But  pray  go  on." 

"The  first  thing  I  came  to  establish  was  an  association  of 
dressmakers,  myself  being  one.  That  is  very  simple.  I  have 
started  them  with  a  house  free  of  rent,  and  the  necessary  furni- 
ture— which  I  know  is  wrong,  because  it  introduces  an  unfair 
advantage — and  we  divide  all  the  money  in  certain  proportions. 
That  is  one  thing." 

"  But,  my  dear  young  lady,  could  you  not  have  done  this  from 
Portman  Square?" 

"I  could,  but  not  so  well.  To  live  here  as  a  workwoman 
among  other  workwomen  is,  at  least,  to  avoid  the  danger  of  being 
flattered,  deceived,  and  paid  court  to.     I  was  a  most  insignificant 


^f  ^ 


'  /  am — the — tlie  dressmaker.' " 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  327 

person  when  I  came.  I  am  now  so  far  advanced  that  a  great 
many  employers  of  women's  labor  cordially  detest  me,  and 
would  like  to  see  my  association  ruined. 

"  Oh,  Lord  Jocelyn  !"  she  went  on,  after  a  pause,  "  you  do  not 
know,  you  cannot  know,  the  dreadful  dangers  which  a  rich  wom- 
an has  to  encounter.  If  I  had  come  here  in  my  own  name,  I 
should  have  been  besieged  by  every  plausible  rogue  who  could 
catch  my  ear  for  half  an  hour.  I  should  have  had  all  the  clergy 
round  me  imploring  help  for  their  schools  and  their  churches ; 
I  should  have  had  every  unmarried  curate  making  love  to  me ; 
I  should  have  paid  ten  times  as  much  as  anybody  else ;  and, 
worse  than  all,  I  should  not  have  made  a  single  friend.  My 
sympathies,  whenever  I  read  the  parable,  are  always  with  Dives, 
because  he  must  have  been  so  flattered  and  worshipped  before 
his  pride  became  intolerable." 

"  I  see.  All  this  you  escaped  by  your  assumption  of  the 
false  name." 

"  Yes.  I  am  one  of  themselves,  one  of  the  people  ;  I  have 
got  my  girls  together :  I  have  made  them  understand  my  proj- 
ect :  they  have  become  my  fast  and  faithful  friends :  the  better 
to  inspire  confidence,  I  even  sheltered  myself  behind  myself :  I 
said  Miss  Messenger  was  interested  in  our  success :  she  sends  us 
orders :  I  went  to  the  West  End  with  things  made  up  for  her. 
Thanks,  mainly  to  her,  we  are  flourishing :  we  work  for  shorter 
hours  and  for  greater  pay  than  other  girls :  I  could  already 
double  my  staff  if  I  could  only,  which  I  shall  soon,  double  the 
work.  We  have  recreation,  too,  and  we  dine  together,  and  in 
the  evening  we  have  singing  and  dancing.  My  girls  have  never 
before  known  any  happiness ;  now  they  have  learned  the  happi- 
ness of  quiet,  at  least  with  a  little  of  the  culture,  and  some  of 
the  things  which  make  rich  people  happy.  Oh,  would  you  have 
me  go  away  and  leave  them,  when  I  have  taught  them  things  of 
which  they  never  dreamed  before  ?  Should  I  send  them  back 
to  the  squalid  house  and  the  bare  pittance  again  ?  Stay  and 
take  your  luncheon  with  us  when  we  dine,  and  ask  yourself 
whether  it  would  not  be  better  for  me  to  live  here  altogether — 
never  to  go  back  to  the  West  End  at  all — than  to  go  away  and 
desert  my  girls  ?" 

She  was  agitated,  because  she  spoke  from  her  heart.  She 
went  on  without  waiting  for  any  reply : 

y 


328  ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  If  you  knew  the  joyless  lives,  the  hopeless  days  of  these 
girls,  if  you  could  see  their  workrooms,  if  you  knew  what  is 
meant  by  their  long  hours  and  their  insufficient  food,  you  would 
not  wonder  at  my  staying  here ;  you  would  cry  shame  upon  the 
rich  woman  so  selfish  as  to  spend  her  substance  in  idle  follies 
when  she  might  have  spent  it  upon  her  unfortunate  sisters." 

"I  think,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "that  you  are  a  very  noble 
girl." 

"  Then  there  is  another  scheme  of  mine ;  a  project  so  great 
and  generous — nay,  I  am  not  singing  my  own  praises,  believe 
nie — that  I  can  never  get  it  out  of  my  mind.  This  project. 
Lord  Jocelyn,  is  due  to  your  ward." 

"  Harry  was  always  an  ingenious  youth.  But  pray  tell  me 
what  it  is." 

"  I  cannot,"  she  replied ;  "  when  I  put  the  project  into  words, 
they  seem  cold  and  feeble.  They  do  not  express  the  greatness 
of  it.  They  would  not  rouse  your  enthusiasm.  I  could  not 
make  you  understand  in  any  degree  the  great  hopes  I  have  of 
this  enterprise." 

"  And  it  is  Harry's  invention  ?" 

"  Yes — his.  All  I  have  done  has  been  to  find  the  money  to 
carry  it  out." 

"  That  is  a  good  part  of  any  enterprise,  however." 

At  this  point  a  bell  rang. 

"  That  is  the  first  bell,"  said  Angela.  "  Now  they  lay  down 
their  work  and  scamper  about — at  least  the  younger  ones  do — 
for  ten  minutes  before  dinner.  Come  with  me  to  the  dining- 
room." 

Presently  the  girls  came  trooping  in,  fifteen  or  so,  with  bright 
eyes  and  healthy  cheeks.  Some  of  them  were  pretty ;  one,  Lord 
Jocelyn  thought,  of  a  peculiarly  graceful  and  delicate  type, 
though  too  fragile  in  appearance ;  this  was  Nelly  Sorensen. 
She  looked  more  fragile  than  usual  to-day,  and  there  were  black 
lines  under  her  lustrous  eyes.  Another,  whom  Miss  Kennedy 
called  Rebekah,  was  good-looking  in  a  different  way,  being 
sturdy,  rosy-cheeked,  and  downright  in  her  manner.  Another, 
who  would  otherwise  have  been  quite  common  in  appearance, 
was  made  beautiful — almost — by  the  patient  look  which  had  fol- 
lowed years  of  suffering;  she  was  a  cripple:  all  their  faces  dur- 
ing the  last  few  months  had  changed  for  the  better :  not  one 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  329 

among  them  all  bore  the  expression  which  is  described  by  the 
significant  words  "  bold  "  and  "  common,"  Six  months  of  daily 
drill  and  practice  in  good  manners  had  abolished  that  look  at 
any  rate. 

The  dinner  was  perfectly  plain  and  simple,  consisting  of  a 
piece  of  meat  with  plenty  of  vegetables  and  bread,  and  nothing 
else  at  all.  But  the  meat  was  good  and  well  cooked,  and  the 
service  was  on  fair  white  linen.  Moreover,  Lord  Jocelyn,  sitting 
down  in  this  strange  company,  observed  that  the  girls  behaved 
with  great  propriety.  Soon  after  they  began,  the  door  opened 
and  a  man  came  in.  It  was  one  of  those  to  whom  Lord  Joce- 
lyn had  spoken  on  the  Green,  the  man  with  the  bushy,  sandy 
eyebrows.  He  took  a  seat  at  the  table  and  began  to  eat  his 
food  ravenously.  Once  he  pushed  his  plate  away  as  if  in  a  tem- 
per, and  looked  up  as  if  he  were  going  to  complain.  Then  the 
girl  they  called  Rebekah — she  came  to  dinner  on  Saturdays,  so 
as  to  have  the  same  advantages  as  the  rest,  though  she  did  no 
work  on  that  day — held  up  a  forefinger  and  shook  it  at  him, 
and  he  relapsed  into  silence.  He  was  the  only  one  who  be- 
haved badly,  and  Miss  Kennedy  made  as  if  she  had  not  seen. 

During  the  dinner  the  girls  talked  freely  among  themselves 
without  any  of  the  giggling  and  whispering  which  in  some  cir- 
cles is  considered  good  manners ;  they  all  treated  Miss  Ken- 
nedy with  great  respect,  though  she  was  only  one  workwoman 
among  the  rest.  Yet  there  was  a  great  difference,  and  the  girls 
knew  it;  next  to  her  on  her  left  sat  the  pretty  girl  whom  she 
called  Nelly. 

When  dinner  was  over,  because  it  was  Saturday  there  was  no 
more  work.  Some  of  the  girls  went  into  the  drawing-room  to 
rest  for  an  hour  and  read :  Rebekah  went  home  again  to  at- 
tend the  afternoon  service :  some  went  into  the  garden,  al- 
though it  was  December,  and  began  to  play  lawn-tennis  on  the 
asphalt ;  the  man  with  the  eyebrows  got  up  and  glared  moodily 
around  from  under  those  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  then  vanished. 
Angela  and  Lord  Jocelyn  remained  alone. 

"  You  have  seen  us,"  she  said ;  "  what  do  you  think  of  us  ?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say.     And  I  do  not  know  what  to  think." 

"Your  ward  is  our  right  hand.     We  women  want  a  man  to 

work  for  us  always.     It  is  his  business,  and  his  pleasure  too,  to 

help  us  amuse  ourselves.     He  finds  diversions ;   he  invents  all 


330  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

kinds  of  things  for  us.     Just  now  he  is  arranging  tableaux  and 
plays  for  Christmas." 

"  Is  it — is  it — oh  !  Miss — Kennedy — is  it  for  the  girls  only  ?" 

"That  is  dangerous  ground,"  she  replied,  but  not  severely. 
"Do  you  think  we  had  better  discuss  the  subject  from  that 
point  of  view  ?" 

"  Poor  boy  !"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  It  is  the  point  of  view 
from  which  I  must  regard  it." 

She  blushed  again,  and  her  beautiful  eyes  grew  limpid. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  speaking  low — "  do  you  think  I ' 
do  not  feel  for  him  ?     Yet  there  is  a  cause — a  sentiment  per- 
haps.    The  time  is  not  quite  come.     Lord  Jocelyn,  be  patient 
with  me !" 

"  You  will  take  pity  on  him  ?" 

"  Oh !" — she  took  the  hand  he  offered  her.  "  If  I  can  make 
him  happy — " 

"  If  not,  replied  Lord  Jocelyn,  kissing  her  hand,  "  he  must  be 
the  most  ungrateful  dog  in  all  the  world.  If  not,  he  deserves  to 
get  nothing  but  a  shilling  an  hour  for  the  miserable  balance  of 
his  days.  A  shilling  ?  No :  let  him  go  back  to  his  tenpence. 
My  dear  young  lady,  you  have  made  me,  at  all  events,  the  hap- 
piest of  men  !  No,  do  not  fear :  neither  by  word  nor  look  shall 
Harry — shall  any  one — know  what  you  have  been  so  very,  very 
good,  so  generous,  and  so  thoughtful  as  to  tell  me." 

"  He  loves  me  for  myself,"  she  murmured.  "  He  does  not 
know  that  I  am  rich.  Think  of  that,  and  think  of  the  terrible 
suspicions  which  grow  up  in  every  rich  woman's  heart  when  a 
man  makes  love  to  her.  Now  I  can  never,  never  doubt  his  hon- 
esty. For  my  sake  he  has  given  up  so  much :  for  my  sake — 
mine — oh  !  why  are  men  so  good  to  women  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  Ask  what  men  can  ever  do  that 
they  should  be  rewarded  with  the  love  and  trust  of  such  a 
woman  as  you !" 

That  is  indeed  a  difficult  question,  seeing  in  what  words  the 
virtuous  woman  has  been  described  by  one  who  writes  as  if  he 
ought  to  have  known.  As  a  pendant  to  the  picture  'tis  pity, 
'tis  great  pity  that  we  have  not  the  eulogy  of  the  virtuous  man. 
But  there  never  were  any,  perhaps. 

Lord  Jocelyn  stayed  with  Angela  all  the  afternoon.  They 
talked  of  many  things :  of  Harry's  boyhood ;  of  his  gentle  and 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  331 

ready  ways ;  of  his  many  good  qualities ;  and  of  Angela  her- 
self, her  hopes  and  ambitions ;  and  of  their  life  at  Bormalack's. 
And  Angela  told  Lord  Jocelyn  about  her  proteges,  the  claimants 
to  the  Davenant  peerage,  with  the  history  of  the  "  lloag  in 
Grane,"  Saturday  Davenant ;  and  Lord  Jocelyn  promised  to  call 
upon  them. 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  she  sent  him  away,  with  permission 
to  come  again.  Now  this,  Lord  Jocelyn  felt,  as  he  came  away, 
was  the  most  satisfactory,  nay,  the  most  delightful  day  that  he 
had  ever  spent. 

That  lucky  rascal,  Harry !  To  think  of  this  tremendous 
stroke  of  fortune  !  To  fall  in  love  with  the  richest  heiress  in 
England  :  to  have  that  passion  returned :  to  be  about  to  marry 
the  most  charming,  the  most  beautiful,  the  sweetest  woman  that 
had  ever  been  made  !  Happy,  thrice  happy  boy !  What  won- 
der, now,  that  he  found  tinkering  chairs,  in  company,  so  to  speak, 
with  that  incomparable  woman,  better  than  the  soft  divans  of 
his  club  or  the  dinners  and  dances  of  society  ?  What  had  he, 
Lord  Jocelyn,  to  offer  the  lad,  in  comparison  with  the  delights 
of  this  strange  and  charming  courtship  ? 


CHAPTER  XL. 

SWEET  NELLY. 

In  every  love-story  there  is  always,  though  it  is  not  always 
told,  a  secondary  plot,  the  history  of  the  man  or  woman  who 
might  have  been  left  happy  but  for  the  wedding-bells  which 
peal  for  somebody  else  and  end  the  tale.  When  these  ring  out, 
the  hopes  and  dreams  of  some  one  else,  for  whom  they  do  not 
ring,  turn  at  last  to  dust  and  ashes.  We  are  drawing  near  the 
church,  we  shall  soon  hear  those  bells.  Let  us  spare  a  moment 
to  speak  of  this  tale  untold,  this  dream  of  the  morning  doomed 
to  disappointment. 

It  is  only  the  dream  of  a  foolish  girl :  she  was  young  and 
ignorant :  she  was  brought  up  in  a  school  of  hardship  until  the 
time  when  a  gracious  lady  came  to  rescue  her.  She  had  ex- 
perienced, outside  the  haven  of  rest  where  her  father  was  safely 
sheltered,  only  the  buffets  of  a  hard  and  cruel  world,  filled  with 


332  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

greedy  taskmasters  who  exacted  the  uttermost  farthing  in  work, 
and  paid  the  humblest  farthing  for  reward.  More  than  this,  slie 
knew,  and  her  father  knew,  that  when  his  time  came  for  exchang- 
incf  that  haven  for  the  cemetery,  she  would  have  to  fight  the 
hard  battle  alone,  being  almost  a  friendless  girl,  too  shrinking 
and  timid  to  stand  up  for  herself.  Therefore,  after  her  rescue, 
at  first  she  was  in  the  seventh  heaven ;  nor  did  her  gratitude 
and  love  towards  her  rescuer  ever  know  any  abatement.  But 
there  came  a  time  when  gratitude  was  called  upon  to  contend 
with  another  feeling. 

From  the  very  first  Harry's  carriage  towards  Nelly  was  marked 
by  sympathetic  interest  and  brotherly  affection.  He  really  re- 
garded this  pretty  creature,  with  her  soft  and  winning  ways,  as 
a  girl  whom  he  could  call  by  her  Christian  name,  and  treat  as 
one  treats  a  sweet  and  charming  child.  She  was  clever  at  learn- 
ing— nobody,  not  even  Miss  Kennedy,  danced  better :  she  was 
docile :  she  was  sweet-tempered,  and  slow  to  say  or  think  evil. 
She  possessed  naturally,  Harry  thought — but  then  he  forgot 
that  her  father  had  commanded  an  East-Indiaman  —  a  refine- 
ment of  thought  and  manner  far  above  the  other  girls  ;  she 
caught  readily  the  tone  of  her  patron ;  she  became  in  a  few 
weeks,  this  young  dressmaker,  the  faithful  effigies  of  a  lady 
under  the  instruction  of  Miss  Kennedy,  whom  she  watched  and 
studied  day  by  day.  It  was  unfortunate  that  Harry  continued 
to  treat  her  as  a  child,  because  she  was  already  a  woman. 

Presently  she  began  to  think  of  him,  to  watch  for  him,  to 
note  his  manner  towards  herself. 

Then  she  began  to  compare  and  to  watch  his  manner  towards 
Miss  Kennedy. 

Then  she  began  to  wonder  if  he  were  paying  attention  to  Miss 
Kennedy,  if  they  were  engaged,  if  they  had  an  understanding. 

She  could  find  none.  Miss  Kennedy  was  always  friendly 
towards  him,  but  never  more.  He  was  always  at  her  call,  her 
faithful  servant,  like  the  rest  of  them,  but  no  more. 

Remember  that  the  respect  and  worship  with  which  she  re- 
garded Miss  Kennedy  were  unbounded.  But  Harry  she  did 
not  regard  as  on  the  same  level.  No  one  was  good  enough  for 
Miss  Kennedy.  And  Harry,  clever  and  bright  and  good  as  he 
seemed,  was  not  too  good  for  herself. 

They  were  a  great  deal  together.     All  Nelly's  evenings  were 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  833 

spent  in  the  drawing-room  ;  Harry  was  there  every  night ;  they 
read  together ;  they  talked  and  danced  and  sang  together.  And 
though  the  young  man  said  no  single  word  of  love,  he  was  al- 
ways thoughtful  for  her,  in  ways  that  she  had  never  experienced 
before.  Below  a  certain  level  men  are  not  thoughtful  for  women. 
The  cheapeners  of  women's  labor  at  the  East  End  are  not  by 
any  means  thoughtful  towards  them.  No  one  had  ever  con- 
sidered  Nelly  at  all,  except  her  father. 

Need  one  say  more  ?  Need  one  explain  how  tender  flowers 
of  hope  sprang  up  in  this  girl's  heart  and  became  her  secret  joy  ? 

This  made  her  watchful,  even  jealous.  And  when  a  change 
came  in  Miss  Kennedy's  manner — it  was  after  her  first  talk  with 
Lord  Jocelyn — when  Nelly  saw  her  color  heighten  and  her  eyes 
grow  brighter  when  Harry  appeared,  a  dreadful  pain  seized  upon 
her,  and  she  knew,  without  a  word  being  spoken,  that  all  was 
over  for  her.  For  what  was  she  compared  with  this  glorious 
woman,  beautiful  as  the  day,  sweet  as  a  rose  in  June,  full  of 
accomplishments  ?  How  could  any  man  regard  her  beside  Miss 
Kennedy  ?  How  could  any  man  think  of  any  other  woman 
when  such  a  goddess  had  smiled  upon  him  ? 

In  some  stories,  a  girl  who  has  to  beat  down  and  crush  the 
young  blossoms  of  love  goes  through  a  great  variety  of  perform- 
ances, always  in  the  same  order.  The  despair  of  love  demands 
that  this  order  shall  be  obeyed.  She  turns  white;  she  throws 
herself  on  her  bed,  and  weeps  by  herself,  and  miserably  owns 
that  she  loves  him ;  she  tells  the  transparent  fib  to  her  sister  or 
mother ;  she  has  received  a  blow  from  which  she  will  never  re- 
cover ;  if  she  is  religious  it  brings  her  nearer  heaven ;  all  this 
we  have  read  over  and  over  again.  Poor  little  Nelly  knew  noth- 
ing about  her  grander  sisters  in  misfortune ;  she  knew  nothing 
of  what  is  due  to  self-respect  under  similar  circumstances ;  she 
only  perceived  that  she  had  been  foolish,  and  tried  to  show  as 
if  that  was  not  so.  It  was  a  make-believe  of  rather  a  sorry  kind. 
When  she  was  alone  she  reproached  herself;  when  she  was 
with  Miss  Kennedy  she  reproached  herself;  when  she  was  with 
Harry  she  reproached  herself.  Always  herself  to  blame,  no  one 
else,  and  the  immediate  result  was  that  her  great  limpid  eyes 
were  surrounded  by  dark  rings,  and  her  cheeks  grew  thin. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  misfortune  more  common  among  women, 
especially  among  women  of  the  better  class,  than  that  of  disap- 


834  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN. 

pointed  hope.  Girls  who  are  hard-worked  in  shops  have  no 
time,  as  a  rule,  to  think  of  love  at  all ;  love,  like  other  gracious 
influences,  does  not  come  in  their  way.  It  is  when  leisure  is 
arrived  at,  with  sufficiency  of  food  and  comfort  of  shelter  and 
good  clothing,  that  love  begins.  To  most  of  Angela's  girls 
Harry  Goslett  was  a  creature  far  above  their  hopes  or  thoughts  : 
it  was  pleasant  to  dance  with  him,  to  hear  him  play,  to  hear  him 
talk,  but  he  did  not  belong  to  them ;  it  was  not  for  nothing  that 
their  brothers  called  him  Gentleman  Jack ;  they  were,  in  fact, 
"  common  "  girls,  although  Angela  by  the  quiet  and  steady  force 
of  example  was  introducing  such  innovations  in  the  dressing  of 
the  hair,  the  carriage  of  the  person,  and  the  style  of  garments, 
that  they  were  rapidly  becoming  uncommon  girls ;  but  they 
occupied  a  position  lower  than  that  of  Nelly,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a  ship's  captain  now  in  the  asylum,  or  of  Rebekah, 
who  was  the  daughter  of  a  minister,  and  had  the  key  to  all 
truth.  To  Nelly,  therefore,  there  came  for  a  brief  space  this 
dream  of  love ;  it  lasted,  indeed,  so  brief  a  space,  it  had  such 
slender  foundations  of  reality,  that,  when  it  vanished,  she  ought 
to  have  let  it  go  without  a  sigh,  and  have  soon  felt  as  if  it  never 
had  come  to  her  at  all.  This  is  difficult  of  accomplishment, 
even  for  women  of  strong  nerves  and  good  physique  ;  but  Nelly 
tried  it,  and  partially  succeeded.  That  is,  no  one  knew  her 
secret  except  Angela,  who  divined  it,  having  special  reason  for 
this  insight,  and  Rebekah,  who  perhaps  had  also  her  own  rea- 
sons ;  but  she  was  a  self-contained  woman,  who  kept  her  own 
secret. 

"  She  cannot,"  said  Rebekah,  watching  Angela  and  Harry, 
who  were  walking  together  on  the  Green — "  she  cannot  marry 
anybody  else.     It  is  impossible." 

"  But  why,"  said  Nelly — "  why  do  they  not  tell  us,  if  they 
are  to  be  married  ?" 

"  There  are  many  things,"  said  Rebekah,  "  which  Miss  Ken- 
nedy does  not  tell  us.  She  has  never  told  us  who  she  is,  or 
where  she  came  from,  or  how  she  gets  command  of  money ;  or 
how  she  knows  Miss  Messenger;  or  what  she  was  before  she 
came  to  us.  Because,  Nelly,  you  may  be  sure  of  one  thing : 
that  Miss  Kennedy  is  a  lady  born  and  bred.  Not  that  I  want 
to  know  more  than  she  chooses  to  tell ;  and  I  am  as  certain  of 
her  goodness  as  I  am  certain  of  anything ;  and  what  this  place 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  335 

will  do  for  the  girls  if  it  succeeds  no  one  can  tell.  Miss  Ken- 
nedy will  tell  us  perhaps,  some  day,  why  she  has  come  among 
us,  pretending  to  be  a  dressmaker." 

"  Oh !"  said  Nelly.  "  What  a  thing  for  us  that  she  did  pre- 
tend !  And  oh,  Rebekah,  what  a  thing  it  would  be — if  she  were 
to  leave  off  pretending !    But  she  would  never  desert  us — never." 

"  No,  she  never  would," 

Rebekah  continued  to  watch  them. 

"  You  see,  Nelly,  if  she  is  a  lady,  he  is  a  gentleman."  Nelly 
blushed,  and  then  blushed  again  for  very  shame  at  having 
blushed  at  all.  "  Some  gentlemen,  I  am  told,  take  delight  in 
turning  girls'  heads.  He  doesn't  do  that.  Has  he  ever  said  a 
word  to  you  that  he  shouldn't  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Nelly.     "  Never." 

''  Well,  and  he  hasn't-  to  me  :  though,  as  for  you,  he  goes 
about  saying  everywhere  that  you  are  the  prettiest  girl  in  Step- 
ney, next  to  Miss  Kennedy ;  and  as  for  me  and  the  rest,  he  has 
always  been  like  a  brother,  and  a  good  deal  better  than  most 
brothers  are  to  their  sisters.  Being  a  gentlenian,  I  mean,  he  is 
no  match  for  you  and  me,  who  are  real  workgirls :  and  there  is 
nobody  in  the  parish  except  Miss  Kennedy  for  him." 

"  Yet  he  works  for  money." 

**So  does  she.  My  dear,  I  don't  understand  it.  I  never 
could  understand  it.  Perhaps,  some  day,  we  shall  know  what 
it  all  means.  There  they  are,  making  believe — they  go  on  mak- 
ing believe  and  pretending,  and  they  seem  to  enjoy  it.  Then 
they  walk  about  together  and  play  in  words  with  each  other,  one 
pretending  not  to  understand,  and  so  on.  Miss  Kennedy  says, 
*  But  then  I  speak  from  hearsay,  for  I  am  only  a  dressmaker ;' 
and  he  says,  '  So  I  read,  because,  of  course,  a  cabinet-maker  can 
know  nothing  of  these  things.'  Mr.  Bunker,  who  ought  to  be 
made  to  learn  the  Epistle  of  St.  James  by  heart,  says  dreadful 
things  of  both  of  them;  and  one  his  own  nephew.  But  what 
does  he  know  ?     Nothing." 

"  But,  Rebekah,  Mr.  Goslett  cannot  be  a  very  great  gentleman 
if  he  is  Mr.  Bunker's  nephew.  His  father  was  a  sergeant  in 
the  army." 

"  He  is  a  gentleman  by  education  and  training.  Well,  some 
day  we  shall  learn  more.  Meantime,  I  for  one  am  contented 
that  they  should  marry — are  you,  Nelly  ?" 


336  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  I  too,"  she  replied,  "  am  contented  if  it  will  make  Miss  Ken- 
nedy happy." 

"  He  is  not  convinced  of  the  truth,"  said  Rebekah,  making 
her  little  sectarian  reservation,  "but  any  woman  who  would 
want  a  better  husband  must  be  a  fool.  As  for  you  and  me, 
now,  after  knowing  those  two,  it  will  be  best  for  us  never  to 
marry,  rather  than  to  marry  one  of  the  drinking,  tobacco-smoking 
workmen  who  would  have  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Nelly,  "  much  best.    I  shall  never  marry  anybody." 

Certainly,  it  was  not  likely  that  more  young  gentlemen  would 
come  their  way.  One  Sunday  evening,  the  girl,  being  alone  with 
Miss  Kennedy,  took  courage  and  dared  to  speak  to  her.  In 
fact,  it  was  Angela  herself  who  began  the  talk. 

"  Let  us  talk,  Nelly,"  she  began  ;  "  we  are  quite  alone.  Tell 
me,  my  dear,  what  is  on  your  mind." 

"  Nothing,"  said  Nelly. 

"  Yes,  there  is  something.     Tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Kennedy,  I  cannot  tell  you.  It  would  be  rudeness 
to  speak  of  it." 

"  There  can  be  no  rudeness,  Nelly,  between  you  and  me.  Tell 
me  what  you  are  thinking." 

Angela  knew  already  what  Avas  in  her  mind,  but  after  the 
fashion  of  her  sex  she  dissembled.  The  brutality  of  truth 
among  the  male  sex  is  sometimes  very  painful.  And  yet  we 
are  so  proud — some  of  us — of  our  earnest  attachment  to  truth. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Kennedy,  can  you  not  see  that  he  is  suffering  ?" 

"  Nelly  !"  but  she  was  not  displeased. 

"  He  is  getting  thinner ;  he  does  not  laugh  as  he  used  to : 
and  he  does  not  dance  as  much  as  he  did.  Oh,  Miss  Kennedy, 
can  you  not  take  pity  on  him  ?" 

"  Nelly,  you  have  not  told  me  whom  you  mean.  Nay  " — as, 
Avith  a  sudden  change  of  tone,  she  threw  her  arms  about  Nelly's 
neck,  and  kissed  her — "  nay,  I  know  very  well  whom  you  mean, 
my  dear." 

"  I  have  not  offended  you  ?" 

"  No,  you  have  not  offended  me.  But,  Nelly,  answer  me  one 
question  ;  answer  it  truthfully.  Do  you — from  your  own  heart 
— wish  me  to  take  pity  on  him  ?" 

Nelly  answered  frankly  and  truthfully. 

"  Yes ;  because  how  can  I  wish  anything  but  what  will  make 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  337 

you  happy  ?    Oh  !  how  can  any  of  us  help  wishing  that  ?    And  he 
is  the  only  man  who  can  make  you  happy.     And  he  loves  you." 

"  You  want  him  to  love  me — for  my  sake — for  my  own  sake. 
Nelly,  dear  child,  you  humble  me." 

But  Nelly  did  not  understand.  She  had  secretly  offered  up 
her  humble  sacrifice — her  pair  of  turtle-doves — and  she  knew 
not  that  her  secret  was  known. 

"  She  loves  him  herself,"  Angela  was  thinking,  "  and  she  gives 
him  up  for  my  sake." 

"  He  is  not,"  Nelly  went  on,  as  if  she  could  by  any  words  of 
hers  persuade  Angela — "he  is  not  like  any  of  the  common 
workmen :  see  how  he  walks,  and  how  independent  he  is ;  and 
he  talks  like  a  gentleman ;  and  he  can  do  all  the  things  that 
gentlemen  learn  to  do.  Who  is  there,  among  us  all,  that  he 
could  look  at — except  you  ?" 

"  Nelly — do  not  make  me  vain." 

"  As  for  you,  Miss  Kennedy,  there  is  no  man  fit  for  you  in  all 
the  world.  You  call  yourself  a  dressmaker,  but  we  know  better. 
Oh,  you  are  a  lady  !  My  father  says  so.  He  used  to  have  great 
ladies  sometimes  on  board  his  ship :  he  says  that  never  was 
any  one  like  you  for  talk  and  manner.  Oh,  we  don't  ask  your 
secret,  if  you  have  one.  Only  some  of  us — not  I,  for  one — are 
afraid  that  some  day  you  will  go  away  and  never  come  back  to 
us  again.     What  should  we  do  then  ?" 

"  My  dear,  I  shall  not  desert  you." 

"  And  if  you  marry  him,  you  will  remain  with  us.  A  lady 
should  marry  a  gentleman,  I  know — she  could  not  marry  any 
common  man.  But  you  are — so  you  tell  us — only  a  dressmaker ; 
and  he  is — he  says — only  a  cabinet-maker.  And  Dick  Coppin  says 
that,  though  he  can  use  a  lathe,  he  knows  nothing  at  all  about 
the  trade,  not  even  how  they  talk,  nor  anything  about  them. 
If  you  two  have  secrets.  Miss  Kennedy,  tell  them  to  each  other." 

"  My  secrets,  if  I  have  any,  are  very  simple,  Nelly ;  and  very 
soon  you  shall  know  them  ;  and^  as  for  his,  I  know  them  already." 

Angela  was  silent  awhile,  thinking  over  this  thing.  Then  she 
kissed  the  girl,  and  whispered, 

"  Patience  yet  a  little  while,  dear  Nelly.  Patience,  and  I  will 
do — perhaps — what  you  desire." 

"  Father,"  said  Nelly  later  on  that  night,  as  they  sat  together 
by  the  fire — "  father,  I  spoke  to  Miss  Kennedy  to-night." 
15 


338  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  What  did  you  speak  to  her  about,  my  dear  ?" 

"I  told  her  that  we  knew — you  and  I — that  she  is  a  lady, 
whatever  she  may  pretend." 

"  That  is  quite  true,  Nelly." 

"  And  I  said  that  Mr.  Goslett  is  a  gentleman,  whatever  he  may 
pretend." 

"  That  may  be  true,  even  though  he  is  not  a  gentleman  born. 
But  that's  a  very  different  thing,  my  dear." 

"  Why  is  it  different  ?" 

•*  Because  there  are  many  ladies  who  go  about  among  poor  peo- 
ple, but  no  gentlemen,  unless  it's  the  clergymen.  Ladies  seem  to 
like  it :  they  do  it,  however  hard  the  work,  for  nothing ;  and  all 
because  it  is  their  duty  and  in  imitation  of  the  Lord.  Some  of 
them  go  out  nursing.  I  have  told  you  how  I  took  them  out  to 
Scutari :  some  of  them  go,  not  a  bit  afraid,  into  the  foul  courts, 
and  find  out  the  worst  creatures  in  the  world  and  help  them: 
many  of  them  give  up  their  whole  lives  for  the  poor  and  miser- 
able. My  dear,  there  is  nothing  that  a  good  woman  will  shrink 
from :  no  misery,  no  den  of  wickedness — nothing.  Sometimes 
I  think  Miss  Kennedy  must  be  one  of  those  women.  Yes :  she's 
got  a  little  money,  and  she  has  come  here  to  work,  in  her  own 
way,  among  the  people  here." 

"  And  Mr.  Goslett,  father  ?" 

"Men  don't  do  what  women  do.  There  may  be  something 
in  what  Mr.  Bunker  says,  that  he  has  reasons  of  his  own  for 
coming  here  and  hiding  himself." 

"  Oh,  father,  you  don't  mean  it !  And  his  own  uncle,  too,  to 
say  such  a  thing !" 

"  Yes,  his  own  uncle.  Mr.  G-oslett  certainly  does  belong  to 
the  place.  Though  why  Bunker  should  bear  him  so  much  malice 
is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"And — father — there  is  another  reason  why  he  should  stay 
here."     Nelly  blushed  and  laughed  merrily. 

"  What  is  that,  my  dear  ?" 

Nelly  kissed  him  and  laughed  again. 

"  It  is  your  time  for  a  pipe.  Let  me  fill  it  for  you.  And  the 
Sunday  ration ;  here  it  is — and  here  is  a  light.  Oh,  father — to 
be  a  sailor  so  long,  and  to  have  no  eyes  in  your  head !" 

"  What !"  He  understood  now.  "  You  mean  Miss  Kennedy  ! 
Nell,  my  dear,  forgive  me.     I  was  thinking  that  perhaps  yon — " 


'She  lovea  him  herself,'  Angela  was  thinking." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  339 

"  No,  father,"  she  replied,  hurriedly.  "  That  could  never  be. 
I  want  nothing  but  to  stay  on  here  with  you  and  Miss  Kennedy, 
who  has  been  so  good  to  us  that  we  can  never — never — thank 
her  enough — nor  can  we  wish  her  too  much  joy.  But  please 
never,  never  say  that  again." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Captain  Sorensen  took  a  book  from  the  table.  It  was  that 
book  which  so  many  people  have  constantly  in  their  mouths, 
and  yet  it  never  seems  to  reach  their  hearts :  the  book  which  is 
so  seldom  read  and  so  much  commented  upon.  He  turned  it 
over  till  he  found  a  certain  passage  beginning,  "  \Vho  can  find 
a  virtuous  woman  ?"  He  read  this  right  through  to  the  end : 
one  passage — "  She  stretcheth  out  her  hand  unto  the  poor :  yea, 
she  reacheth  forth  her  hand  nnto  the  needy  " — he  read  twice ; 
and  the  last  line — "  Let  her  own  works  praise  her  in  the  gates  " 
— he  read  three  times. 

"My  dear,"  he  concluded,  "to  pleasure  Miss  Kennedy  you 
would  do  more  than  give  up  a  lover;  ay,  and  with  a  cheerful 
heart." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

BOXING-NIGHT. 

"  Let  us  keep  Christmas,"  said  Angela, "  with  something  like 
original  treatment.  We  will  not  dance,  because  we  do  that 
nearly  every  night." 

"  Let  us,"  said  Harry,  "  dress  up  and  act." 

What  were  they  to  act  ?  That  he  would  find  for  them.  How 
were  they  to  dress?  That  they  were  to  find  for  themselves. 
The  feature  of  the  Christmas  festival  was,  they  were  to  be  mum- 
mers, and  that  there  was  to  be  mummicking,  and  of  course  there 
would  be  a  little  feasting,  and  perhaps  a  little  singing. 

"  We  must  have  just  such  a  programme,"  said  Angela  to  her 
master  of  ceremonies,  "  as  if  you  were  preparing  it  for  the  Palace 
of  Delight." 

"  This  is  the  only  Palace  of  Delight,"  said  Harry, "  that  we 
shall  ever  see.     For  my  own  part  I  desire  no  other." 

"  But,  you  know,  we  are  going  to  have  another  one,  much  larger 
than  this  little  place.     Have  you  forgotten  all  your  projects  ?" 


340  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

Harry  laughed :  it  was  strange  how  persistently  Miss  Eenne- 
dv  returned  to  the  subject  again  and  again ;  how  seriously  she 
talked  about  it ;  how  she  dwelt  upon  it. 

"  We  must  have,"  she  continued,  "  sports  which  will  cost  noth- 
ing, with  dresses  which  we  can  mate  for  ourselves.  Of  course 
we  must  have  guests  to  witness  them." 

"  Guests  cost  money,"  said  Harry.  *'  But,  of  course,  in  a 
Palace  of  Delight  money  must  not  be  considered.  That  would 
be  treason  to  your  principles." 

"  We  shall  not  give  our  guests  anything  except  the  cold  re- 
mains of  the  Christmas  dinner.  And  as  for  champagne,  we  can 
make  our  own  with  a  few  lemons  and  a  little  sugar.  Do  not 
forbid  us  to  invite  an  audience." 

Fortunately,  a  present  which  arrived  from  their  patron.  Miss 
Messenger,  the  day  before  Christmas-day,  enabled  them  to  give 
their  guests  a  substantial  supper  at  no  cost  whatever.  The 
present  took  the  form  of  several  hampers,  addressed  to  Miss 
Kennedy,  with  a  note  from  the  donor  conveying  her  love  to  the 
girls  and  best  wishes  for  the  next  year,  when  she  hoped  to  make 
their  acquaintance.  The  hampers  contained  turkeys,  sausages, 
ducks,  geese,  hams,  tongues,  and  the  like. 

Meantime  Harry,  as  stage-manager  and  dramatist,  had  devisea 
the  tableaux,  and  the  girls  between  them  devised  the  dresses 
from  a  book  of  costumes.  Christmas-day,  as  everybody  remem- 
bers, fell  last  year  on  a  Sunday.  This  gave  the  girls  the  whole 
of  Saturday  afternoon  and  evening  with  Monday  morning  for 
the  conversion  of  the  trying-on  room  into  the  stage  and  the 
showroom  for  the  audience.  But  the  rehearsals  took  a  fort- 
night, for  some  of  the  girls  were  stupid  and  some  were  shy, 
though  all  were  willing  to  learn,  and  Harry  was  patient.  Be- 
sides, there  was  the  chance  of  wearing  the  most  beautiful  dresses, 
and  no  one  was  left  out :  in  the  allegory,  a  pastoral  invented  by 
their  manager,  there  was  a  part  for  every  one. 

The  gift  of  Miss  Messenger  made  it  possible  to  have  two  sets 
of  guests ;  one  set  consisting  of  the  girls'  female  relations,  and 
a  few  private  friends  of  Miss  Kennedy's  who  lived  and  suffered 
in  the  neighborhood,  for  the  Christmas  dinner,  held  on  Monday  ; 
and  the  other  set  was  carefully  chosen  from  a  long  list  for  the 
select  audience  in  the  evening.  Among  them  were  Dick  and 
his  friend,  the  ex-Chartist  cobbler,  and  a  few  leading  spirits  of 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  341 

the  Advanced  Club.  They  wanted  an  audience  who  would  read 
between  the  lines. 

The  twenty-sixth  day  of  last  December  was,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Stepney,  dull  and  overcast ;  it  promised  to  be  a  day  of 
rebuke  for  all  quiet  folk,  because  it  was  a  general  holiday,  one 
of  those  four  terrible  days  when  the  people  flock  in  droves  to 
favorite  haunts  if  it  is  in  the  summer,  or  hang  about  public- 
houses  if  it  is  winter ;  when,  in  the  evening,  the  air  is  hideous 
with  the  shouts  of  tho^e  who  roll  about  the  pavements :  a  day 
when  even  Comus  and  his  rabble  rout  are  fain  to  go  home  for 
fear  of  being  hustled  and  evilly  treated  by  the  holiday-makers 
of  famous  London  town  :  a  day  when  the  peaceful  and  the  pious, 
the  temperate  and  the  timid,  stay  at  home.  But  to  Angela  it 
was  a  great  day,  sweet  and  precious — to  use  the  language  of  an- 
cient Puritan  and  modern  prig — because  it  was  the  first  attempt 
towards  the  realization  of  her  great  dream ;  because  her  girls 
on  this  night  for  the  first  time  showed  the  fruits  of  her  training 
in  the  way  they  played  their  parts,  their  quiet  bearing  and  their 
new  refinement.  After  the  performances  of  this  evening  she 
looked  forward  with  confidence  to  her  palace. 

The  day  began,  then,  at  half-past  one  with  the  big  dinner. 
All  the  girls  could  bring  their  mothers,  sisters,  and  female  rela- 
tions generally,  who  were  informed  that  Miss  Messenger,  the 
mysterious  person  who  interfered  perpetually,  like  a  goddess 
out  of  a  machine,'with  some  new  gift,  or  some  device  for  their 
advantage,  was  the  giver  of  the  feast. 

It  was  a  good  and  ample  Christmas  dinner,  served  in  the  long 
workroom  by  Angela  and  the  girls  themselves.  There  were  the 
turkeys  of  the  hamper,  roasted  with  sausages,  and  roast  beef 
and  roast  fowls  and  roast  goose  and  roast  pork,  with  an  immense 
supply  of  the  vegetables  dear  to  London  people ;  and  after  this 
first  course  there  were  plum-puddings  and  mince-pies.  Mes- 
senger's ale,  with  the  stout  so  much  recommended  by  Bunker, 
flowed  freely,  and  after  the  dinner  there  was  handed  to  each 
a  glass  of  port.  None  but  women  and  children — no  boy  over 
eight  being  allowed — were  present  at  the  feast;  and  when  it 
was  over  most  of  the  women  got  up  and  went  away,  not  with- 
out some  little  talk  with  Angela,  and  some  present  in  kind 
from  the  benevolent  Miss  Messenger.  Then  they  cleared  all 
away  and  set  out  the  tables  again,  with  the  same  provisions, 


342  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

for  the  supper  of  the  evening,  at  which  there  would  be  hungry 
men. 

All  the  afternoon  they  spent  in  completing  their  arrange- 
ments. The  guests  began  to  arrive  at  five.  The  music  was 
supplied  by  Angela  herself,  who  did  not  act,  with  Captain  Soren- 
sen  and  Harry.  The  piano  was  brought  down-stairs,  and  stood 
in  the  hall  outside  the  trying-on  room. 

The  performance  was  to  commence  at  six,  but  everybody  had 
come  long  before  half-past  five.  At  a  quarter  to  six  the  little 
orchestra  began  to  play  the  old  English  tunes  dear  to  panto- 
mimes. 

At  the  ringing  of  a  bell  the  music  changed  to  a  low,  monoto- 
nous plaint,  and  the  curtain  slowly  rose  on  a  tableau. 

There  was  a  large,  bare,  empty  room ;  its  sole  furniture  was 
a  table  and  three  chairs ;  in  one  corner  was  a  pile  of  shavings ; 
upon  them  sat  crouching,  with  her  knees  drawn  up,  the  pale 
and  worn  figure  of  a  girl ;  beside  her  were  the  crutches  which 
showed  that  she  was  a  cripple ;  her  white  cheek  was  wasted  and 
hollow ;  her  chin  was  thrust  forward  as  if  she  were  in  suffering 
almost  intolerable.  During  the  tableau  she  moved  not,  save  to 
swing  slowly  backwards  and  forwards  upon  the  shavings  which 
formed  her  bed. 

On  the  table — for  it  was  night — was  a  candle  in  a  ginger-beer 
bottle,  and  two  girls  sat  at  the  table  working  hard ;  their  needles 
were  running  a  race  with  starvation ;  their  clothes  were  in  rags ; 
their  hair  was  gathered  up  in  careless  knots ;  their  cheeks  were 
pale ;  they  were  pinched  and  cold  and  feeble  with  hunger  and 
privation. 

Said  one  of  the  women  present,  "  Twopence  an  hour  they  can 
make.     Poor  things  !  poor  things  !" 

"  Dick,"  whispered  tlie  cobbler,  "  you  make  a  note  of  it ;  I 
guess  what's  coming." 

The  spectators  shivered  with  sympathy.  They  knew  so  well 
what  it  meant ;  some  of  them  had  dwelt  amid  these  garrets  of 
misery  and  suffering. 

Then  voices  were  heard  outside  in  the  street  singing. 

They  were  the  waits,  and  they  sang  the  joyful  hymns  of 
Christmas.  When  the  working -girls  heard  the  singing,  they 
paid  no  heed  whatever,  plying  the  needle  fast  and  furiously  ; 
and  the  girl  in  the  shavings  paid  no  heed,  slowly  swinging  to 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  343 

and  fro  in  her  pain  and  hunger.  At  the  sight  of  this  callous 
contempt,  this  disregard  of  the  invitation  to  rejoice,  as  if  there 
were  neither  hope  nor  joy  for  such  as  themselves,  with  only  a 
mad  desire  to  work  for  something  to  stay  the  dreadful  pains  of 
hunger,  some  of  the  womerf  among  the  spectators  wept  aloud. 

Then  the  waits  went  away,  and  there  was  silence  again. 

Then  one  of  the  girls — it  was  Nelly — stopped,  and  leaned  back 
in  her  chair  with  her  hand  to  her  heart:  the  work  fell  from  her 
lap  upon  the  floor ;  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  threw  up  her  hands, 
and  fell  in  a  lifeless  heap  upon  the  floor.  The  other  girl  went 
on  with  her  sewing;  and  the  cripple  went  on  swinging  back- 
wards and  forwards.  For  they  were  all  three  so  miserable  that 
the  misery  of  one  could  no  more  touch  the  other  two. 

The  curtain  dropped.  The  tableau  represented,  of  course,  the 
girls  who  work  for  an  employer. 

After  five  minutes  it  rose  again.  There  were  the  same  girls 
and  others ;  they  were  sitting  at  work  in  a  cheerful  and  well- 
furnished  room ;  they  were  talking  and  laughing.  The  clock 
struck  six,  and  they  laid  aside  the  work,  pushed  back  the  table, 
and  advanced  to  the  front  singing  all  together.  Their  faces 
were  bright  and  happy ;  they  were  well  dressed ;  they  looked 
well  fed ;  there  was  no  trouble  among  them  at  all ;  they  chat- 
tered like  singing-birds ;  they  ran  and  played. 

Then  Captain  Sorensen  came  in  with  his  fiddle,  and  first  he 
played  a  merry  tune,  at  the  sound  of  which  the  girls  caught  each 
other  by  the  waist,  and  fell  to  dancing  the  old  Greek  ring.  Then 
he  played  a  quadrille,  and  they  danced  that  simple  figure,  and 
as  if  they  liked  it ;  and  then  he  played  a  waltz,  and  they  whirled 
round  and  round. 

This  was  the  labor  of  girls  for  themselves.  Everybody  un- 
derstood perfectly  what  was  meant  without  the  waste  of  words. 
Some  of  the  mothers  present  wiped  their  eyes,  and  told  their 
neighbors  that  this  was  no  play-acting,  but  the  sweet  and  blessed 
truth ;  and  that  the  joy  was  real,  because  the  girls  were  working 
for  themselves,  and  there  were  no  naggings,  no  fines,  no  temper, 
no  bullying,  no  long  hours. 

After  this  there  was  a  concert,  which  seemed  a  falling-oflE  in 

point  of  excitement.      But  it  was  pretty.     Captain  Sorensen 

played  some  rattling  sea-ditties;  then  Miss  Kennedy  and  Mr. 

Goslett  plaved  a  duet ;  then  the  girls  sang  a  madrigal  in  parts, 

Z 


344  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

SO  that  it  was  wonderful  to  hear  them,  thinking  how  ignorant 
they  were  six  months  before.  Then  Miss  Kennedy  played  a 
solo,  and  then  the  girls  sang  another  song.  By  what  magic,  by 
what  mystery,  were  girls  so  transformed  ?  Then  the  audience 
talked  together,  and  whispered  that  it  was  all  the  doing  of  that 
one  girl — Miss  Kennedy — who  was  believed  by  everybody  to 
be  a  lady  born  and  bred,  but  pretended  to  be  a  dressmaker.  She 
it  was  who  got  the  girls  together,  gave  them  the  house,  found 
work  for  them,  arranged  the  time  and  the  duties,  and  paid  them 
week  by  week  for  shorter  hours,  better  wages.  It  was  she  who 
persuaded  them  to  spend  their  evenings  with  her  instead  of 
traipsing  about  the  streets  getting  into  mischief ;  it  was  she 
who  taught  them  the  singing  and  all  manner  of  pretty  things ; 
and  they  were  not  spoiled  by  it,  except  that  they  would  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  the  rough  lads  and  shopboys  who  had 
formerly  paid  them  rude  court  and  jested  with  them  on  Stepney 
Green.  Uppish  they  certainly  were ;  what  mother  would  find 
fault  with  a  girl  for  holding  up  her  head  and  respecting  herself  ? 
And  as  for  manners,  why,  no  one  could  tell  what  a  difference 
there  was ! 

The  Chartist  looked  on  with  a  little  suspicion  at  first,  which 
gradually  changed  to  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

"  Dick,"  he  whispered  to  his  friend  and  disciple, "  I  am  sure 
that,  if  the  workingmen  like,  they  may  find  the  swells  their  real 
friends.  See,  now  we've  got  all  the  power ;  they  can't  take  it 
from  us.  Very  good,  then  ;  who  are  the  men  we  should  suspect  ? 
Why,  those  who've  got  to  pay  the  wages — the  manufacturers 
and  such.  Not  the  swells.  Make  a  note  of  that,  Dick.  It  may 
be  the  best  card  you've  got  to  play.  A  thousand  places  such 
as  this — planted  all  about  England,  started  at  first  by  a  swell — 
why,  man,  the  working-classes  would  have  not  only  all  the  power, 
but  all  the  money.  Oh,  if  I  were  ten  years  younger !  What 
are  they  going  to  do  next  ?" 

The  next  thing  they  did  pleased  the  women,  but  the  men  did 
not  seem  to  care  much  about  it,  and  the  Chartist  went  on  devel- 
oping the  new  idea  to  Dick,  who  drank  it  all  in,  seeing  that  here, 
indeed,  was  a  practical  and  attractive  idea,  even  though  it  meant 
a  new  departure.  But  the  preacher  of  a  new  doctrine  has  gen- 
erally a  better  chance  than  one  who  only  hammers  away  at  an 
old  one. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  345 

The  stage  showed  one  figure.  A  beautiful  girl,  her  hair  bound 
in  a  fillet,  clad  in  Greek  dress,  simple,  flowing,  graceful,  stood 
upon  a  low  pedestal.  She  was  intended — it  was  none  other  than 
Nelly — to  represent  woman  dressed  as  she  should  be.  One  after 
the  other  there  advanced  upon  the  stage,  and  stood  beside  this 
statue,  women  dressed  as  women  ought  not  to  be :  there  they 
were,  the  hideous  fashions  of  generations ;  the  pinched  waists, 
the  monstrous  hats,  high  peaks,  hoops  and  crinolines,  hair  piled 
up,  hair  stuffed,  gigot  sleeves,  high  waists,  tight  skirts,  bending 
walk,  boots  with  high  heels — an  endless  array. 

When  Nelly  got  down  from  her  pedestal  and  the  show  was 
over,  Harry  advanced  to  the  front  and  made  a  little  speech.  He 
reminded  his  hearers  that  the  association  was  only  six  months 
old  ;  he  begged  them  to  consider  what  was  its  position  now. 
To  be  sure,  the  girls  had  been  started,  and  that,  he  said,  was  the 
great  difficulty ;  but,  the  start  once  made  and  prejudice  removed, 
they  found  themselves  with  work  to  do,  and  were  now  paying 
their  own  way  and  doing  well ;  before  long  they  would  be  able 
to  take  in  more  hands ;  it  was  not  all  work  with  them,  but  there 
was  plenty  of  play,  as  they  knew.  Meantime  the  girls  invited 
everybody  to  Jiave  supper  with  them,  and  after  supper  there 
would  be  a  little  dance. 

They  stayed  to  supper  and  they  appreciated  the  gift  of  Miss 
Messenger;  then  they  had  the  little  dance — Dick  Coppin  now 
taking  his  part  without  shame.  While  the  dancing  went  on, 
the  Chartist  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  room  and  talked  with  Angela. 
When  he  went  away,  his  heart — which  was  large  and  generous 
— burned  within  him,  and  he  had  visions  of  a  time  when  the 
voices  of  the  poor  shall  not  be  raised  against  the  rich,  nor  the 
minds  of  the  rich  hardened  against  the  poor.  Perhaps  he  came 
unconsciously  nearer  to  Christianity,  this  man  who  was  a  scoffer 
and  an  unbeliever,  that  night  than  he  had  ever  before.  To  have 
faith  in  the  future  forms,  indeed,  a  larger  part  of  the  Christian 
religion  than  some  of  us  ever  realize.  And  to  believe  in  a  sin- 
gle woman  is  one  step,  however  small,  towards  believing  in  the 
Divine  Man. 
15* 


346  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

NOT    J0SEPHU8,  BUT    ANOTHER. 

The  attractions  of  a  yard  peopled  with  ghosts,  discontented 
figure-heads,  and  an  old  man,  are  great  at  first,  but  not  likely  to 
be  lasting  if  one  does  not  personally  see  or  converse  with  the- 
ghosts,  and  if  the  old  man  becomes  monotonous.  We  expect 
too  much  of  old  men.  Considering  their  years,  we  thint  their 
recollections  must  be  wonderful.  One  says,  *■'  Good  heavens  ! 
Methuselah  must  recollect  William  the  Conqueror,  and  King 
John,  and  Sir  John  Falstaff,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Battle  of 
Waterloo !"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Methuselah  generally  remem- 
bers nothing  except  that  where  Cheapside  now  stands  was  once 
a  green  field.  As  for  Shakespeare  and  Coleridge  and  Charles 
Lamb,  he  knows  nothing  whatever  about  them.  You  see,  if  he 
had  taken  so  much  interest  in  life  as  to  care  about  things  going 
on,  he  would  very  soon,  like  his  contemporaries,  have  worn  out 
the  machine,  and  would  be  lying,  like  them,  in  the  grassy  en- 
closure. 

Harry  continued  to  go  to  the  carver's  yard  for  some  time,  but 
nothing  more  was  to  be  learned  from  him.  He  knew  the  family 
history,  however,  by  this  time,  pretty  well.  The  Coppins  of 
Stepney,  like  all  middle-class  families,  had  experienced  many 
ups  and  downs.  They  had  been  churchwardens ;  they  had  been 
bankrupts ;  they  had  practised  many  trades ;  and  once  there 
was  a  Coppin  died  leaving  houses — twelve  houses — three  apiece 
to  his  children — a  meritorious  Coppin.  Where  were  those  houses 
now  ?  Absorbed  by  the  omnivorous  Uncle  Bunker.  And  how 
Uncle  Bunker  got  those  belonging  to  Caroline  Coppin  could  not 
now  be  ascertained,  except  from  Uncle  Bunker  himself.  Every- 
where there  are  scrapers  and  scatterers;  the  scrapers  are  few, 
and  the  scatterers  are  many.  By  what  scatterer  or  what  process 
of  scattering  did  Caroline  lose  her  houses  ? 

Meantime,  Harry  did  not  feel  himself  obliged  to  hold  his 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  347 

tongue  upon  the  subject ;  and  everybody  knew,  before  long, 
that  something  was  going  on  likely  to  be  prejudicial  to  Mr. 
Bunker.  People  whispered  that  Bunker  was  going  to  be  caught 
out ;  this  rumor  lent  to  the  unwilling  agent  some  of  the  interest 
which  attaches  to  a  criminal.  Some  went  so  far  as  to  say  that 
they  had  always  suspected  him  because  he  was  so  ostentatious 
in  his  honesty ;  and  this  is  a  safe  thing  to  say,  because  any  per- 
son may  be  reasonably  suspected ;  and  if  we  did  not  suspect  all 
the  world,  why  the  machinery  of  bolts  and  bars,  keys  and  patent 
safes?  But  it  is  the  wise  man  who  suspects  the  right  person, 
and  it  is  the  justly  proud  man  strikes  an  attitude,  and  says, 
''  What  did  I  tell  you  ?"  As  yet,  however,  the  suspicions  were 
vague.  Bunker,  for  his  part,  though  not  generally  a  thin-skinned 
man,  easily  perceived  that  there  was  a  change  in  the  way  he  was 
received  and  regarded ;  people  looked  at  him  with  marked  in- 
terest in  the  streets ;  they  turned  their  heads  and  looked  after 
him  ;  they  talked  about  him  as  he  approached ;  they  smiled  with 
meaning ;  Josephus  Coppin  met  him  one  day,  and  asked  him 
why  he  would  not  tell  his  nephew  how  he  obtained  those*  three 
houses,  and  what  consideration  he  gave  for  them.  He  began, 
especially  of  an  evening,  over  brandy-and-water,  to  make  up 
mentally,  over  and  over  again,  his  own  case,  so  that  it  might  be 
presented  at  the  right  moment  absolutely  perfect  and  without  a 
flaw ;  a  paragon  among  cases.  His  nephew,  whom  he  now  re- 
garded with  a  loathing  almost  lethal,  was  impudent  enough  to 
go  about  saying  that  he  had  got  those  houses  unlawfully,  was 
he  ?  Very  good ;  he  would  have  such  law  as  is  to  be  had  in 
England  for  the  humiliation,  punishment,  stamping  out,  and  ruin- 
ing of  that  nephew ;  ay,  if  it  cost  him  five  hundred  pounds,  he 
would.  He  should  like  to  make  his  case  public ;  he  was  not 
afraid,  not  a  bit ;  let  all  the  world  know :  the  more  the  story 
was  known,  the  more  would  his  contemporaries  admire  his  beau- 
tiful and  exemplary  virtue,  patience,  and  moderation.  There 
were,  he  said  with  the  smile  of  benevolence  and  the  blush  of 
modesty  which  so  well  become  the  good  man,  transactions,  money 
transactions,  between  himself  and  his  sister-in-law,  especially 
after  her  marriage  with  a  man  who  was  a  secret  scatterer. 
These  money  matters  had  been  partly  squared  by  the  transfer 
of  the  houses,  which  he  took  in  part  payment ;  the  rest  he 
forgave  when  Caroline  died,  and  when,  which  showed  his  own 


348  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

goodness  in  an  electric  light,  he  took  over  the  boy  to  bring  him 
up  to  some  honest  trade,  though  he  was  a  beggar.  Where  were 
the  proofs  of  these  transactions?  Unfortunately  they  were  all 
destroyed  by  fire  some  years  since,  after  having  been  carefully 
preserved,  and  docketed,  and  endorsed,  as  is  the  duty  of  every 
careful  man  of  business. 

Now,  by  dint  of  repeating  this  precious  story  over  and  over 
again,  the  worthy  man  came  to  believe  it  entirely,  and  to  believe 
that  other  people  would  believe  it  as  well.  It  seemed,  in  fact, 
so  like  the  truth,  that  it  would  deceive  even  experts,  and  pass 
for  that  priceless  article.  At  the  time  when  Caroline  died,  and 
the  boy  went  to  stay  with  him,  no  one  asked  any  questions,  be- 
cause it  seemed  nobody's  business  to  inquire  into  the  interests 
of  the  child.  After  the  boy  was  taken  away  it  gradually  be- 
came known  among  the  surviving  members  of  the  family  that 
the  houses  had  long  before,  owing  to  the  profligate  extravagance 
of  the  sergeant  —  as  careful  a  man  as  ever  marched  —  passed 
into  the  hands  of  Bunker,  who  now  had  all  the  Coppin  houses. 
Everything  was  clean  forgotten  by  this  time.  And  the  boy 
must  needs  turn  up  again,  asking  questions.  A  young  villain ! 
A  serpent !     But  he  should  be  paid  out. 

A  very  singular  accident  prevented  the  "  paying  out "  quite 
in  the  sense  intended  by  Mr.  Bunker.     It  happened  in  this  way. 

One  day  when  Miss  Messenger's  cabinet-maker  and  joincr-in- 
ordinary,  having  little  or  nothing  to  do,  was  wandering  about 
the  Brewery  looking  about  him,  lazily  watching  the  process  of 
beer-making  on  a  large  and  extensive  scale,  and  exchanging  the 
compliments  of  the  season,  which  was  near  the  new  year,  with 
the  workmen,  it  happened  that  he  passed  the  room  in  which  Jo- 
sephus  had  sat  for  forty  years  among  the  juniors.  The  door 
stood  open  and  he  looked  in,  as  he  had  often  done  before,  to 
nod  a  friendly  salutation  to  his  cousin.  There  Josephus  sat, 
with  gray  hair,  an  elderly  man  among  boys,  mechanically  tick- 
ing off  entries  among  the  lads.  His  place  was  in  the  warm  cor- 
ner near  the  fire :  beside  him  stood  a  large  and  massive  safe ; 
the  same  safe  out  of  which  during  an  absence  of  three  minutes 
the  country  notes  had  been  so  mysteriously  stolen. 

The  story,  of  course,  was  well  known.  Josephus's  version  of 
the  thing  was  ajso  well  known ;  everybody,  further,  knew  that 
until  the  mystery  of  th^t  robbery  >yas  cleared  up,  Josephus  would 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN.  349 

remain  a  junior  on  thirty  shillings  a  week ;  lastly,  everybody, 
with  the  kindliness  of  heart  common  to  our  glorious  humanity, 
firmly  believed  that  Josephus  had  really  cribbed  those  notes, 
but  had  been  afraid  to  present  them,  and  so  dropped  them  into 
the  fire  or  down  a  drain.  It  is  truly  remarkable  to  observe  how 
deeply  we  respect,  adore,  and  venerate  virtue,  insomuch  that  we 
all  go  about  pretending  to  be  virtuous ;  yet  how  little  we  believe 
in  the  virtue  of  each  other !  It  is  also  remarkable  to  reflect 
upon  the  extensive  fields  still  open  to  the  moralist  after  all  these 
years  of  preaching  and  exhorting. 

Now  as  Harry  looked  into  the  room,  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
safe,  and  a  curious  thing  occurred.  The  fragment  of  a  certain 
letter  from  Bob  Coppin,  in  which  he  sent  a  message  by  his  friend 
to  his  cousin,  Squaretoes  Josephus,  quite  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly returned  to  his  memory.  Further,  the  words  assumed 
a  meaning. 

"  Josephus,"  he  said,  stepping  into  the  oflSce,  "  lend  me  a  piece 
of  paper  and  a  pencil.     Thank  you." 

He  wrote  down  the  words,  exactly  as  he  recollected  them,  half 
destroyed  by  the  tearing  of  the  letter. 

..."  Josephus,  my  cousin,  that  he  will  .  .  nd  the  safe  the 
bundle  .  .  .  for  a  lark.  Josephus  is  a  Squaretoes.  I  hate  a 
man  who  won't  drink.     He  will  ...  if  he  looks  there." 

When  he  had  written  these  words  down  he  read  them  over 
again,  while  the  lads  looked  on  with  curiosity  and  some  resent- 
ment. Cabinet-makers  and  joiners  have  no  business  to  swagger 
about  the  office  of  young  gentlemen  who  are  clerks  in  breweries, 
as  if  it  were  their  own  place.  It  is  an  innovation,  a  levelling  of 
rank. 

"  Josephus,"  Harry  whispered,  "  you  remember  your  cousin, 
Bob  Coppin  ?" 

"  Yes — but  these  are  office  hours ;  conversation  is  not  allowed 
in  the  juniors'  room." 

He  spoke  as  if  he  were  still  a  boy,  as  indeed  he  was,  having 
been  confined  to  the  society  of  boys,  and  having  drawn  the  pay 
of  a  boy  for  so  many  years. 

"  Never  mind  rules.     Tell  me  all  about  Bob." 

"  He  was  a  drinker  and  a  spendthrift.  That's  enough  about 
him."  Josephus  spoke  in  a  whisper,  being  anxious  not  to  dis- 
cuss the  family  disgrace  among  his  fellow-clerks. 


350  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Good.     Were  you  a  friend  as  well  as  a  cousin  of  his  ?" 

*'  No ;  I  never  was.  I  was  respectable — in  those  days — and 
desirous  of  getting  my  character  high  for  steadiness.  I  went 
to  evening  lectures,  and  taught  in  the  Wesleyan  Sunday-schools. 
Of  course,  when  the  notes  were  stolen  it  was  no  use  trying  any 
more  for  character ;  that  was  gone :  a  young  man  suspected  of 
stealing  fourteen  thousand  pounds  can't  get  any  character  at  all. 
So  I  gave  up  attending  the  evening  lectures,  and  left  off  teach- 
ing in  the  school  and  going  to  church,  and  everything." 

"  You  were  a  great  fool,  Josephus.  You  ought  to  have  gone 
on  and  fought  it  out.  Now,  then,  on  the  day  that  you  lost  the 
money  had  you  seen  Bob  ?     Do  you  remember  ?" 

"  That  day  ?"  the  unlucky  junior  replied.  "  I  remember  every 
hour  as  plain  as  if  it  were  to-day.  Yes,  I  saw  Bob.  He  came 
to  the  office  half  an  hour  before  I  lost  the  notes ;  he  wanted  me 
to  go  out  with  him  in  the  evening — I  forget  where — some  gar- 
dens and  dancing  and  prodigalities.  I  refused  to  go.  In  the 
evening  I  saw  him  again,  and  he  did  nothing  but  laugh  while  I 
was  in  misery.  It  seemed  cruel,  and  the  more  I  suffered  the 
louder  he  laughed." 

"  Did  you  never  see  B.ob  again  ?" 

"  No  ;  he  went  away  to  sea,  and  he  came  home  and  went 
away  again.  But  somehow  I  never  saw  him.  It  is  twenty 
years  now  since  he  went  away  last,  and  was  never  heard  of,  nor 
his  ship.  So  of  course  he's  dead  long  ago.  But  what  does  it 
matter  about  Bob  ?  And  these  are  office  hours,  and  there  will 
really  be  things  said  if  we  go  on  talking.     Do  go  away." 

Harry  obeyed  and  left  him.  But  he  went  straight  to  the 
office  of  the  chief  accountant,  and  requested  an  interview.  The 
chief  accountant  sent  word  that  he  could  communicate  his  busi- 
ness through  one  of  the  clerks.  Harry  replied  that  his  business 
was  of  a  nature  which  could  not  be  communicated  by  a  clerk, 
that  it  was  very  serious  and  important  business,  which  must  be 
imparted  to  the  chief  alone ;  and  that  he  would  wait  his  con- 
venience in  the  outer  office.  Presently  he  was  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  great  man. 

"  This  is  very  extraordinary,"  said  the  official.  "  What  can 
your  business  be  which  is  so  important  that  it  must  not  be  in- 
trusted to  the  clerks  ?  Now  come  to  the  point,  young  man.  My 
time  is  valuable." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  351 

**  I  want  you  to  authorize  me  to  make  a  little  examination  in 
the  junior  clerks'  room." 

"  What  examination  ?     And  why  ?" 

Harry  gave  him  the  fragment  of  the  letter,  and  explained 
where  he  found  it. 

"  I  understand  nothing.  What  do  you  learn  from  this  frag- 
ment?" 

"  There  is  no  date,"  said  Harry,  "  but  that  matters  very  little. 
You  will  observe  that  it  clearly  refers  to  my  cousin,  Josephus 
Coppin." 

"  That  seems  evident.     Josephus  is  not  a  common  name." 

"  You  know  my  cousin's  version  of  the  loss  of  those  notes." 

"  Certainly ;  he  said  they  must  have  been  stolen  during  the 
two  or  three  minutes  he  was  out  of  the  room." 

"  Yes.  Now  " — Harry  wrote  a  few  words  to  fill  up  the  bro- 
ken sentences  of  the  letter — "  read  that,  sir  ?" 

"  Good  heavens !" 

"  My  cousin  tells  me,  too,"  he  went  on,  "  that  this  fellow.  Bob 
Coppin,  was  in  the  office  half  an  hour  before  the  notes  were 
missed :  why,  very  likely  he  was  at  the  time  hanging  about  the 
place  ;  and  that  in  the  evening,  when  his  cousin  was  in  an 
agony  of  distress.  Bob  was  laughing  as  if  the  whole  thing  was 
a  joke." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  the  chief,  "  it  seems  plausible." 

"  We  can  try  the  thing  at  once,"  said  Harry.  "  But  1  should 
like  you  to  be  present  when  we  do." 

"  Undoubtedly  I  will  be  present.  Come,  let  us  go  at  once. 
By  the  way,  you  are  the  young  man  recommended  by  Miss  Mes- 
senger, are  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  not  that  I  have  the  honor  of  knowing  Miss  Messenger 
personally." 

The  chief  accountant  laughed.  Cabinet-makers  do  not  gener- 
ally know  young  ladies  of  position.  And  this  was  such  a  re- 
markably cheeky  young  workman. 

Tliey  took  with  them  four  stout  fellows  from  those  who  toss 
about  the  casks  of  beer.  The  safe  was  one  of  the  larger  kind, 
standing  three  feet  six  inches  high  on  a  strong  wooden  box  with 
an  open  front.  It  was  in  the  corner  next  to  Josephus's  seat :  be- 
tween the  back  of  the  safe  and  the  wall  was  a  space  of  an  inch 
or  so. 


352  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  I  mast  trouble  you  to  change  your  seat,"  said  the  chief  ac- 
countaat  to  Josephus.    "  We  are  about  to  move  this  safe." 

Josephus  rose,  and  the  men  presently  with  mighty  efforts 
lugged  the  great  heavy  thing  a  foot  or  two  from  its  place. 

"  Will  you  look,  sir  ?"  asked  Harry.  "  If  there  is  anything 
there  1  should  like  you,  who  know  the  whole  story,  to  find  it." 

The  chief  stooped  over  the  safe  and  looked  behind  it.  Every- 
body now  was  aware  that  something  was  going  to  happen,  and 
though  pens  continued  to  be  dipped  into  inkstands  with  zeal, 
and  heads  to  be  bent  over  desks  with  the  devotion  which  always 
seizes  a  junior  clerk  in  presence  of  his  chief,  all  eyes  were  fur- 
tively turned  to  Josephus's  corner. 

"  There  is  a  bundle  of  papers,"  he  said.  "  Thank  you." 
Harry  picked  them  up  and  placed  them  in  his  hands. 

The  only  person  who  paid  no  heed  to  the  proceedings  was 
the  one  most  cencerned. 

The  chief  accountant  received  them ;  a  rolled  bundle,  not  a 
tied-up  parcel,  and  covered  inch -deep  with  black  dust.  He 
opened  it  and  glanced  at  the  contents.  Then  a  strange  and  un- 
accountable look  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  handed  them  to  Jo- 
sephus. 

"  Will  you  oblige  me,  Mr.  Coppin,"  he  said,  "  by  examining 
these  papers?" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  title  of  Mr.  had  been  bestowed 
upon  Josephus  during  all  the  years  of  his  long  servitude.  He 
was  troubled  by  it ;  and  he  could  not  understand  the  expression 
in  his  chief's  eyes :  and  when  he  turned  to  Harry  for  an  expla- 
nation, he  met  eyes  in  which  the  same  sympathy  and  pity  were 
expressed :  when  he  turned  to  the  boys,  his  fellow-clerks,  he 
was  struck  by  their  faces  of  wondering  expectation. 

What  was  going  to  happen  ? 

Eecovering  his  presence  of  mind,  he  held  out  the  dusty  pa- 
pers and  shook  the  dust  off  them. 

Then  he  began  slowly  to  obey  orders  and  to  examine  them. 

Suddenly  he  began  to  turn  them  over  with  fierce  eagerness. 
His  eyes  flashed  ;  he  gasped. 

"  Come,  Josephus,"  said  his  cousin,  taking  his  arm  ;  "  gently, 
gently.     What  are  they — these  papers  ?" 

The  man  laughed — an  hysterical  laugh. 

"  They  are — ha  !  ha  !  they  are — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !"     He  did  not 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  858 

finish  because  his  voice  failed  him,  but  he  dropped  into  a  chair, 
with  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  They  are  country  bank-notes  and  other  papers,"  said  Harry, 
taking  them  from  his  cousin's  hands.  He  had  interpreted  the 
missing  words  rightly. 

The  chief  looked  round  the  room.  "  Young  men,"  he  said, 
solemnly,  "  a  wonderful  thing  has  happened.  After  many  years 
of  undeserved  suspicion  and  unmerited  punishment,  Mr.  Cop- 
pin's  character  is  cleared  at  last.  We  cannot  restore  to  him  the 
years  he  has  lost,  but  we  can  rejoice  that  his  innocence  is  estab- 
lished." 

"  Come,  Josephus,"  said  Harry,  "  bear  your  good-fortune  as 
you  have  borne  the  bad.     Rouse  yourself." 

The  senior  junior  clerk  lifted  his  head  and  looked  around. 
His  cheeks  were  white  :  his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears:  his  lips 
were  trembling. 

"  Take  your  cousin  home,"  said  the  chief  to  Harry,  "  and 
then  come  back  to  my  office." 

Harry  led  Josephus,  unresisting,  home  to  the  boarding-house. 

"  We  have  had  a  shock,  Mrs.  Bormalack.  Nothing  to  be 
alarmed  about ;  quite  the  contrary.  The  bank-notes  have  been 
foupd  after  all  these  years,  and  my  cousin  has  earned  his  pro- 
motion and  recovered  his  character.  Give  him  some  brandy- 
and-water  and  make  him  lie  down  for  a  bit."  For  the  man 
was  dazed.  He  could  not  understand  as  yet  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

Harry  placed  him  in  the  arm-chair  and  left  him  to  the  care  of 
the  landlady.     Then  he  went  back  to  the  Brewery. 

The  chief  brewer  was  with  the  chief  accountant,  and  they 
were  talking  over  what  was  best  to  be  done.  They  said  very 
kind  things  about  intelligence,  without  which  good-fortune  and 
lucky  finds  are  wasted ;  and  they  promised  to  represent  Harry's 
conduct  in  a  proper  light  to  Miss  Messenger,  who  would  be  im- 
mediately communicated  with.  And  Josephus  would  at  once 
receive  a  very  substantial  addition  to  his  pay,  a  better  position, 
and  more  responsible  work. 

"  May  I  suggest,  gentlemen,"  said  Harry,  "  that  a  man  who  is 
fifty-five,  and  has  all  his  life  been  doing  the  simple  work  of  a 
junior,  may  not  be  found  equal  to  more  responsible  work?" 

"  That  may  be  the  case." 


354  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OP    MEN. 

"  My  cousin,  when  the  misfortune  happened,  left  off  taking 
any  interest  in  things.  I  believe  he  has  never  opened  a  book  or 
learned  anything  in  all  these  years." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see."  A  workman  was  not  to  be  taken  into 
counsel.  "There  is,  however,  something  here  which  seems  to 
concern  yourself.  Your  mother  was  one  Caroline  Coppin,  was 
she  not?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  these  papers,  which  were  deposited  by  some  person 
unknown  with  Mr.  Messenger,  most  likely  for  greater  care,  and 
placed  in  the  safe  by  him,  belong  to  you,  and  I  hope  will  prove 
of  value  to  you." 

Harry  took  them  without  much  interest,  and  came  away. 

In  the  evening  Josephus  held  a  reception.  All  his  contempo- 
raries in  the  Brewery,  the  men  who  entered  with  himself ;  all 
those  who  had  passed  over  his  head,  all  those  with  whom  he  had 
been  a  junior  in  the  Brewery,  called  to  congratulate  him.  At 
the  moment  he  felt  as  if  this  universal  sympathy  fully  made  up 
for  all  his  sufferings  of  the  past.  Nor  was  it  until  the  morning 
that  he  partly  perceived  the  truth,  that  no  amount  of  sympathy 
would  restore  his  vanished  youth  and  give  him  what  he  had  lost. 
But  he  will  never  quite  understand  this  ;  and  he  looked  upon 
himself  as  having  begun  again  from  the  point  where  he  stopped. 
When  the  reception  was  over  and  the  last  man  gone,  he  began 
to  talk  about  his  future. 

I  shall  go  on  again  with  the  evening  course,"  he  said,  "just 
where  I  left  it  off.  I  remember  we  were  having  Monday  for 
book-keeping  by  single  and  double  entry,  Tuesday  for  French, 
Thursday  for  arithmetic — we  were  in  mixed  fractions — and  Fri- 
day for  Euclid.  Then  I  shall  take  up  ray  class  at  the  Sunday- 
school  again,  and  I  shall  become  a  full  church-member  of  the 
Wesleyan  connection.  For,  though  my  father  was  once  church- 
warden at  Stepney  Church,  I  always  favored  the  Wesleyans  my- 
self." 

lie  talked  as  if  he  were  a  boy  again,  with  all  his  life  before 
him ;  and,  indeed,  at  the  moment  he  thought  he  was. 


ALL    SOWrS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  356 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

on,   My    PROPHETIC    SOUL  ! 

Harry  thouglit  nothing  about  the  papers  which  were  found 
among  the  notes  that  evening,  because  he  was  wholly  engaged  in 
the  contemplation  of  a  man  who  had  suddenly  gone  back  thirty- 
five  years  in  his  life.  The  gray  hairs,  thin  at  the  top  and  gone 
at  the  temples,  were  not,  it  is  true,  replaced  by  the  curly  brown 
locks  of  youth,  though  one  thinks  that  Josephus  must  always 
have  been  a  straight-haired  young  man.  But  it  was  remarkable 
to  hear  that  man  of  fifty-five  talking  as  if  the  years  had  rolled 
backward,  and  he  could  take  up  the  thread  of  life  where  he  had 
dropped  it  so  long  ago.  He  spoke  of  his  evening  lectures  and 
his  Sunday-school  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  boy.  He  would 
study — work  of  that  sort  always  paid :  he  would  prepare  his 
lessons  for  the  school  beforehand,  and  stand  well  with  the  su- 
perintendent :  it  was  good  for  men  in  business  offices,  he  said, 
to  have  a  good  character  with  the  superintendent.  Above  all, 
he  would  learn  French  and  book-keeping,  with  mensuration, 
gauging,  and  astronomy,  at  the  Beaumont  Institute.  All  these 
things  would  come  in  useful,  some  time  or  other,  at  the  Brew- 
ery ;  besides,  it  helps  a  man  to  be  considered  studious  in  his 
habits.  He  became,  in  fact,  in  imagination,  a  young  man  once 
more.  And  because  in  the  old  days,  when  he  had  a  character  to 
earn,  he  did  not  smoke  tobacco,  so  now  he  forgot  that  former 
solace  of  the  day,  his  evening  pipe. 

"The  Brewery,"  he  said,  "is  a  splendid  thing  to  get  into. 
You  can  rise :  you  may  become — ah !  even  chief  accountant : 
you  may  look  forward  to  draw  over  a  thousand  a  year  at  the 
Brewery,  if  you  are  steady  and  well  conducted,  and  get  a  good 
name.  It  is  not  every  one,  mind  you,  gets  the  chance  of  such 
a  service.  And  once  in,  always  in.  That's  the  pride  of  the 
Brewery.  No  turning  out :  there  you  stay,  with  your  salary 
always  rising,  till  you  die." 


356  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

In  the  morning  the  exultation  of  spirits  was  exchanged  for  a 
corresponding  depression.  Josephus  went  to  the  Brewery,  know- 
ing that  he  should  sit  on  that  old  seat  of  his  no  longer. 

He  went  to  look  at  it :  the  wooden  stool  was  worn  black :  the 
desk  was  worn  black :  he  knew  every  cut  and  scratch  in  the  lid 
at  which  he  had  written  so  many  years.  There  were  all  the 
books  at  which  he  had  worked  so  long:  not  hard  work,  nor 
work  requiring  thought,  but  simple  entering  and  ticking  oflF  of 
names,  which  a  man  can  do  mechanically — on  summer  after- 
noons, with  the  window  open  and  an  occasional  bee  buzzing  in 
from  Hainault  Forest,  and  the  sweet  smell  of  the  vats  and  the 
drowsy  rolling  of  the  machinery — one  can  do  the  work  half 
asleep  and  never  make  a  mistake.  Now  he  would  have  to  un- 
dertake some  different  kind  of  work,  more  responsible  work :  he 
would  have  to  order  and  direct:  he  would  have  a  chair  instead 
of  a  stool,  and  a  table  instead  of  a  desk.  So  that  he  began  to 
wish  that  he  had  in  the  old  days  gone  farther  in  his  studies — 
but  he  was  always  slow  at  learning — before  the  accident  hap- 
pened ;  and  to  wonder  if  anything  at  all  remained  of  the  knowl- 
edge he  had  then  painfully  acquired,  after  all  these  years. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  nothing  remained.  Josephus  had  become 
perfectly,  delightfully,  inconceivably  stupid.  He  had  forgotten 
everything,  and  could  now  learn  no  new  thing.  Pending  the 
decision  of  Miss  Messenger,  to  whom  the  case  was  referred,  they 
tried  him  with  all  sorts  of  simple  work — correspondence,  an- 
swering letters,  any  of  the  things  which  require  a  little  intelli- 
gence. Josephus  could  do  nothing.  He  sat  like  a  helpless  boy 
and  looked  at  the  documents.  Then  they  let  him  alone,  and  for 
a  while  he  came  every  day,  sat  all  day  long,  half  asleep,  and  did 
nothing,  and  was  much  less  happy  than  when  he  had  been  kept 
at  work  from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  six  o'clock  at 
night. 

When  Harry  remembered  the  packet  of  papers  placed  in  his 
hand,  which  was  on  the  following  morning,  he  read  them.  And 
:he  effect  of  his  reading  was  that  he  did  not  go  to  work  that 
morning  at  all. 

He  was  not  a  lawyer,  and  the  principal  paper  was  a  legal  in- 
strument, the  meaning  of  which  it  took  him  some  little  time  to 
make  out. 

"  Hum — hum — um — why  can't  they  write  plain  English  ?    '  I 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  867 

give  to  my  said  trustees,  John  Skelton  and  Benjamin  Bunker, 
the  three  freehold  houses  as  follows :  that  called  number  twen- 
ty-niue  on  Stepney  Green,  forty-five  in  Beaumont  Square,  and 
twenty-three  in  Redman's  Row,  upon  trust  to  ap^ly  the  rents 
and  income  of  the  same  as  in  their  absolute  discretion  they  may 
think  fit  for  the  maintenance,  education,  and  benefit  of  the  said 
Caroline,  until  she  be  twenty-one  years  old  or  until  she  marry, 
and  to  invest  from  time  to  time  the  accumulations  of  such  rents 
and  income  as  is  hereintofore  provided,  and  to  apply  the  same 
when  invested  in  all  respects  as  I  direct  concerning  the  last 
above-mentioned  premises.  And  when  the  said  Caroline  shall 
attain  the  age  of  twenty -one,  or  marry,  I  direct  my  said  trustees 
to  pay  to  her  the  said  rents  and  income  and  the  income  of  the 
accumulation  of  the  same,  if  any  during  her  life,  by  four  equal 
quarterly  payments  for  her  sole  and  separate  use,  free  from  the 
debts  and  engagements  of  any  husband  or  husbands  she  may 
marry ;  and  I  direct  that  on  the  death  of  the  said  Caroline  my 
said  trustees  shall  hold  and  stand  possessed  of  all  the  said  prem- 
ises for  such  person  or  persons  and  in  such  manner  in  all  re- 
spects as  the  said  Caroline  shall  by  deed  or  will  appoint.  And 
in  default  of  such  appointment  and  so  far  as  the  same  shall  not 
extend  upon  trust ' — and  so  on — and  so  on." 

Harry  read  this  document  with  a  sense,  at  first,  of  mystifica- 
tion.    Then  he  read  it  a  second  time,  and  began  to  understand  it. 

"  The  houses,"  he  said,  "  my  mother's  houses,  are  hers,  free 
from  any  debts  contracted  by  her  husband :  they  are  vested  in 
trustees  for  her  behalf :  she  could  not  sell  or  part  with  them. 
And  the  trustees  were  John  Skelton  and  Benjamin  Bunker. 
John  Skelton — gone  to  Abraham's  bosom,  I  suppose.  Benjamin 
Bunker — where  will  he  go  to  ?"  The  houses  were  tied  up — set- 
tled— entailed." 

He  read  the  document  right  through  for  the  third  time. 

"  So,"  he  said.  "  The  house  at  number  twenty-nine  Stepney  * 
Green.  That  is  the  house  which  Bunker  calls  his  own ;  the 
house  of  the  Associated  Dressmakers ;  and  it's  mine — mine." 
He  clinched  his  fist  and  looked  dangerous.  "  Then  the  house 
at  twenty-three  Redman's  Row,  and  at  forty-five  Beaumont 
Square.  Two  more  houses.  Also  mine.  And  Bunker,  the  per- 
fidious Bunker,  calls  them  all  his  own !  What  shall  be  done  to 
Bunker  ?" 


358  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Next,"  he  went  on,  after  reading  the  document  again, "  Bun- 
ker is  a  fraudulent  trustee,  and  his  brother  trustee  too,  unless  he 
has  gone  dead.  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  whatever.  That 
virtuous  and 'benevolent  Bunker  was  my  mother's  trustee — and 
mine.  And  he  calmly  appropriates  the  trust  to  his  own  uses — 
Uncle  Bunker !  Uncle  Bunker !" 

"  I  knew  from  the  beginning  that  there  was  something  wrong. 
First,  I  thought  he  had  taken  a  sum  of  money  from  Lord  Jocc- 
lyn.  Then  I  found  out  that  he  had  got  possession  of  houses  in 
a  mysterious  manner.  And  now  I  find  that  he  was  simply  the 
trustee.     Wicked  Uncle  Bunker  !" 

Armed  with  his  precious  document,  he  put  on  his  hat  and 
walked  straight  off,  resolution  on  his  front,  towards  his  uncle's 
ofiice.  He  arrived  just  when  Mr.  Bunker  was  about  to  start  on 
a  daily  round  among  his  houses.  By  this  frequent  visitation  he 
kept  up  the  hearts  of  his  tenants,  and  taught  them  the  meaning 
of  necessity ;  so  that  they  put  by  their  money  and  religiously 
paid  the  rent.     Else — 

*'  Pray,"  said  Harry,  "  be  so  good  as  to  take  off  your  hat,  and 
sit  down  and  have  five  minutes'  talk  with  me." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Bunker,  "  I  will  not.  You  can  go  away ;  do 
you  hear  ?  Be  off ;  let  me  lock  my  oflBce  and  go  about  my  own 
business," 

"  Do  take  off  your  hat,  my  uncle." 

"  Go,  sir ;  do  you  hear  ?" 

*'  Sit  down  and  let  us  talk — my  honest — trustee !" 

Mr.  Bunker  dropped  into  a  chair. 

In  all  the  conversations  and  dramatic  scenes  made  up  in  his 
own  mind  to  account  for  the  possession  of  the  houses,  it  had 
never  occurred  to  him  that  the  fact  of  his  having  been  a  trustee 
would  come  to  light.  All  were  dead,  except  himself,  who  were 
concerned  with  that  trust:  he  had  forgotten  by  this  time  that 
there  was  any  deed :  by  ignoring  the  trust  he  simplified,  to  his 
own  mind,  the  transfer  of  the  houses :  and  during  all  these  years 
he  had  almost  forgotten  the  obligations  of  the  trust. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  stammered. 

"  Virtuous  uncle !  I  mean  that  I  know  all.  Do  you  quite 
understand  me?  I  mean  really  and  truly  all.  Yes;  all  that 
there  is  to  know — all  that  you  hide  away  in  your  own  mind  and 
think  that  no  one  knows." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  359 

"  What — what — what  do  you  know  ?" 

"  First,  I  know  which  the  houses  are — I  mean  my  houses — my 
mother's  houses.  The  house  in  Stepney  Green  that  you  have 
let  to  Miss  Kennedy  is  one ;  a  house  in  Beaumont  Square — do 
you  wish  to  know  the  number? — is  another;  and  a  house  in 
Redman's  Row — and  do  you  want  to  know  the  number  of  that  ? 
— is  the  third.  You  have  collected  the  rents  of  those  houses 
and  paid  those  rents  to  your  own  account  for  twenty  years  and 
more." 

"  Go  on.  Let  us  hear  what  you  pretend  to  know.  Suppose 
they  were  Caroline's  houses,  what  then?"  He  spoke  with  an 
attempt  at  bounce ;  but  he  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  unsteady. 

"  This  next.  These  houses,  man  of  probity,  were  not  my 
mother's  property  to  dispose  of  as  she  pleased." 

"  Oh  !  whose  were  they,  then  V 

"  They  were  settled  upon  her  and  her  heirs  after  her ;  and  the 
property  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  two  trustees :  yourself,  my 
praiseworthy ;  and  a  certain  John  Skelton,  of  whom  1  know 
nothing.     Presumably,  he  is  dead." 

Mr.  Bunker  made  no  reply  at  all.     But  his  cheek  grew  paler. 

"  Shall  I  repeat  this  statement,  or  is  that  enough  for  you  ?" 
asked  Harry.  "  The  situation  is  pretty,  perhaps  not  novel :  the 
heir  has  gone  away,  probably  never  to  come  back  again ;  the 
trustee  sole  surviving  no  doubt  receives  the  rents.  Heir  comes 
back.  Trustee  swears  the  houses  are  his  own.  When  the  trus- 
tee is  brought  before  a  court  of  law  and  convicted,  the  judge 
says  that  the  case  is  one  of  peculiar  enormity,  and  must  be  met 
by  transportation  for  five-and-twenty  years ;  five — and — twenty 
— years,  my  patriarch  !  think  of  that,  in  uniform  and  with  short 
hair." 

Mr.  Bunker  said  nothing.  But  by  the  agitation  of  his  fingers 
it  was  plain  that  he  was  thinking  a  great  deaj. 

"  I  told  you,"  cried  Harry.  "  I  warned  you,  some  time  ago, 
that  you  must  now  begin  to  think  seriously  about  handcuffs 
and  prison,  and  men  in  blue.  The  time  has  come  now,  when, 
unless  you  make  restitution  of  all  that  you  have  taken,  action 
will  be  taken,  and  you  will  realize  what  it  is  that  people  think 
of  the  fraudulent  trustee.  Uncle  Bunker,  my  heart  bleeds  for 
you." 

"  Why  did  you  come  here  ?"  asked  his  uncle,  piteously. 
2A 


360  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Why  did  you  come  here  at  all?  We  got  on  very  well  with- 
out you — very  well  and  comfortably,  indeed." 

This  seemed  a  feeble  sort  of  bleat.  But,  in  fact,  the  Bunker's 
mind  was  for  the  moment  prostrated.  He  had  no  sound  resist- 
ance left. 

"  I  offered  you,"  he  went  on,  '*  twenty-five  pounds — to  go. 
I'll  double  it — there.  I'll  give  you  fifty  pounds  to  go,  if  you'll 
go  at  once.     So  that  there  will  be  an  end  to  all  this  trouble." 

"  Consider,"  said  Harry,  "  there's  the  rent  of  Miss  Kennedy's 
house — sixty -five  pounds  a  year  for  that ;  there's  the  house  in 
Beaumont  Square — fifty  for  that;  and  the  house  in  Redman's 
Row  at  five-and-twenty  at  least :  comes  to  a  hundred  and  forty 
pounds  a  year,  which  you  have  drawn,  my  precious  uncle,  for 
twenty-one  years  at  least.  That  makes,  without  counting  inter- 
est, two  thousand  nine  hundred  and  forty  pounds.  And  you 
want  to  buy  me  off  for  fifty  pounds !" 

"  Not  half  the  money  —  not  half  the  money !"  his  uncle 
groaned.  "  There's  repairs  and  painting — and  bad  tenants ;  not 
half  the  money." 

"  We  will  say,  then,"  lightly  replied  the  nephew,  as  if  nine 
hundred  were  a  trifle,  "  we  will  say  two  thousand  pounds.  The 
heir  to  that  property  has  come  back :  he  says,  '  Give  me  my 
houses,  and  give  me  an  account  of  the  discharge  of  your  trust. 
Now  " — Harry  rose  from  the  table  on  which  he  had  been  sitting 
— "  let  us  have  no  more  bounce :  the  game  is  up.  I  have  in  my 
pocket — here,"  he  tapped  his  coat-pocket,  "  the  original  deed  it- 
self. Do  you  want  to  know  where  it  was  found  ?  Behind  a 
safe  at  the  Brewery,  where  it  was  hidden  by  your  brother-in- 
law,  Bob  Coppin,  with  all  the  country  notes  which  got  Josephus 
into  a  mess.  As  for  the  date,  I  will  remind  you  that  it  was  ex- 
ecuted about  thirty-five  years  ago,  when  my  mother  was  still  a 
girl  and  unmarried,  and  you  had  recently  married  her  sister.  I 
have  the  deed  here.  What  is  more,  it  has  been  seen  by  the 
chief  accountant  at  the  Brewery,  who  gave  it  me.  Bunker,  the 
game  is  up." 

He  moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  before  1  go  ?  I  am  now  going 
straight  to  a  lawyer." 

"  What  is  the — the — lowest — oh !  good  Lord ! — the  very  low- 
est figure  that  you  will  take  to  square  it  ?     Oh  !  be  merciful ;  I 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  361 

am  a  poor  man,  indeed  a  very  poor  man,  though  they  think  me 
warm.     Yet  I  must  scrape  and  save  to  get  along  at  all." 

"  Two  thousand,"  said  Harry, 

"  Make  it  fifteen  hundred.  Oh  !  fifteen  hundred  to  clear  off 
all  scores,  and  then  you  can  go  away  out  of  the  place.  "  I 
could  borrow  fifteen  hundred." 

"  Two  thousand,"  Harry  repeated.  "  Of  course,  besides  the 
houses,  which  are  mine." 

"  Besides  the  houses  ?  Never.  You  may  do  your  worst.  You 
may  drag  your  poor  old  uncle,  now  sixty  years  of  age,  before 
the  courts,  but  two  thousand  besides  the  houses  ?     Never !" 

He  banged  the  floor  with  his  stick,  but  his  agitation  was  be- 
trayed by  the  nervous  tapping  of  the  end  upon  the  oil-cloth 
which  followed  the  first  hasty  bang. 

"  No  bounce,  if  you  please."  Harry  took  out  his  watch.  "  I 
will  give  you  five  minutes  to  decide  ;  or,  if  your  mind  is  already 
made  up,  I  will  go  and  ask  advice  of  a  lawyer  at  once." 

"  I  cannot  give  you  that  sum  of  money,"  Bunker  declared ; 
"  it  is  not  that  I  would  not ;  I  would  if  I  could.  Business  has 
been  bad ;  sometimes  I've  spent  more  than  I've  made  ;  and  what 
little  I've  saved  I  meant  always  for  you — I  did,  indeed.  I  said 
I  will  make  it  up  to  him.     He  shall  have  it  back  with — " 

"  One  minute  gone,"  said  Harry,  relentlessly. 

"  Oh !  this  is  dreadful.  Why,  to  get  even  fifteen  hundred  I 
should  have  to  sell  all  my  little  property  at  a  loss ;  and  what  a 
dreadful  thing  it  is  to  sell  property  at  a  loss !  Give  me  more 
time  to  consider ;  only  a  week  or  so,  just  to  look  round." 

"  Three  minutes  left,"  said  Harry  the  hardened. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !"  He  burst  into  tears  and  weeping  of  genuine 
grief  and  shame  and  rage.  "  Oh,  that  a  nephew  should  be  found 
to  persecute  his  uncle  in  such  a  way !  Where  is  your  Christian 
charity  ?     Where  is  forgiving  and  remitting  ?" 

"  Only  two  minutes  left,"  said  Harry,  unmoved. 

Then  Bunker  fell  upon  his  knees :  he  grovelled  and  implored 
pardon ;  he  offered  one  house,  two  houses,  and  twelve  hundred 
pounds,  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  eighteen  hundred  pounds. 

"  One  minute  left,"  said  Harry. 

Then  he  sat  down  and  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  in 
good  round  terras — in  Poplar,  Limehouse,  Shadwell,  Wapping, 
and  Ratcliff  Highway — he  cursed  his  nephew,  and  the  houses, 
16 


362  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

and  the  trust,  and  all  that  therein  lay,  because,  before  the  temp- 
tation came,  he  was  an  honest  man,  whereas  now  he  should  never 
be  able  to  look  Stepney  in  the  face  again. 

"  Time's  up,"  said  Harry,  putting  on  his  hat. 

In  face  of  the  inevitable,  Mr.  Bunker  showed  an  immediate 
change  of  front.  He  neither  prayed  nor  wept  nor  swore.  He 
became  once  more  the  complete  man  of  business.  He  left  the 
stool  of  humiliation,  and  seated  himself  on  his  own  Windsor 
chair  before  his  own  table.  Here,  pen  in  hand,  he  seemed  as  if 
he  were  dictating  rather  than  accepting  terms. 

"  Don't  go,"  he  said.     "  I  accept." 

"  Very  good,"  Harry  replied.  "  You  know  what  is  best  for 
yourself.  As  for  me,  I  don't  want  "to  make  more  fuss  than  is 
necessary.     You  know  the  terms." 

"  Two  thousand  down,  the  three  houses,  and  a  complete  dis- 
charge in  full  of  all  claims.     Those  are  the  conditions." 

"  Yes,  those  are  the  conditions." 

"  I  will  draw  up  the  discharge,"  said  Mr.  Bunker,  "  and  then 
no  one  need  be  any  the  wiser." 

Harry  laughed.  This  cool  and  business-like  compromise  of 
felony  pleased  him. 

*'  You  may  draw  it  up  if  you  like.  But  my  opinion  of  your 
ability  is  so  great  that  I  shall  have  to  show  the  document  to  a 
solicitor  for  his  approval  and  admiration." 

Mr.  Bunker  was  disconcerted.  He  had  hoped  —  that  is, 
thought — he  saw  his  way ;  but  never  mind.  He  quickly  recov- 
ered, and  said,  with  decision, 

"  Go  to  Lawyer  Pike,  in  the  Mile  End  Road." 

"  Why  ?     Is  the  Honorable  Pike  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"  No,  he  isn't ;  that  is  why  I  want  you  to  go  to  him.  Tell 
him  that  you  and  I  have  long  been  wishing  to  clear  up  these  ac- 
counts, and  that  you've  agreed  to  take  the  two  thousand  with 
the  houses."  Mr.  Bunker  seemed  now  chiefly  anxious  that  the 
late  deplorable  scene  should  be  at  once  forgotten  and  forgiven. 
"  He  said  the  other  day  that  I  was  nothing  better  than  a  com- 
mon grinder  and  oppressor.  Now,  when  he  sees  what  an  hon- 
orable trustee  I  am  he  will  be  sorry  he  said  that.  You  can  tell 
everybody  if  you  like.  Why,  what  is  it?  Here's  my  nephew 
comes  home  to  me  and  says.  Give  me  my  houses.  I  say,  Prove 
your  title.     Didn't  I  say  so  ?     How  was  I  to  know  that  he  was 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  363 

my  nephew  ?  Then  the  gentleman  comes  who  took  him  away, 
and  says,  He  is  your  long-lost  nephew ;  and  I  say,  Take  your 
houses,  young  man,  with  the  accumulations  of  the  rent  hoarded 
up  for  you.     Why,  you  can  tell  everybody  that  story." 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  tell  it,  Bunker,  your  own  way.  Every- 
body will  believe  that  way  of  telling  the  story.  What  is  more, 
I  will  not  go  out  of  my  way  to  contradict  it." 

"  Very  good,  then.  And  on  that  understanding  I  withdraw 
all  the  harsh  things  I  may  have  said  to  you,  nephew.  And  we 
can  be  good  friends  again." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  like,"  said  Harry,  and  fairly  ran  away  for 
fear  of  being  called  upon  to  make  more  concessions. 

"  It's  a  terrible  blow  !"  The  old  man  sat  down  and  wiped  his 
forehead.  "  To  think  of  two  thousand  down !  But  it  might 
have  been  much  worse.  Ah  !  it  might  have  been  very,  very 
much  worse.  I've  done  better  than  I  expected,  when  he  said  he 
had  the  papers.  The  young  man's  a  fool — a  mere  fool.  The 
houses  let  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year,  and  they 
have  never  been  empty  for  six  months  together ;  and  the  outside 
repairs  are  a  trifle,  and  I've  saved  it  all  every  year.  Ha !  now  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  for  twenty  years  and  more,  at 
compound  interest  only  five  per  cent.,  is  close  on  five  thousand 
pounds.  I've  calculated  it  out  often  enough  to  know.  Yes, 
and  I've  made  five  per  cent,  on  it,  and  sometimes  six  and  seven, 
and  more,  with  no  losses.  It  might  have  been  far,  far  worse. 
It's  come  to  seven  thousand  pounds  if  it's  a  penny.  And  to  get 
rid  of  that  awful  fear  and  that  devil  of  a  boy  with  his  grins  and 
his  sneers  at  two  thousand  pounds,  why,  it's  cheap.  I  call  it 
cheap.     As  for  the  houses,  I'll  get  them  back,  see  if  I  don't." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A    FOOL    AND    HIS    MONEY. 


Mr.  Pike,  the  solicitor  of  Mile  End  Road,  does  not  belong  to 
the  story — which  is  a  pity,  because  he  has  many  enviable  quali- 
ties—  further  than  is  connected  with  Harry's  interview  with 
him. 

He  read  the  documents  and  heard  the  story  from  beginning 


364  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

to  end.  When  he  had  quite  mastered  all  the  details  he  began 
mildly  to  express  astonishment  and  pity  that  any  young  man 
could  be  such  a  fool.  This  was  hard,  because  Harry  really 
thought  he  had  done  a  mighty  clever  thing.  "  You  have  been 
taken  in,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pike,  "  in  a  most  barefaced  and  impudent 
manner.  Two  thousand  pounds !  Why,  the  mere  rent  alone, 
without  counting  interest,  is  three  thousand.  Go  away,  sir; 
find  out  this  fraudulent  impostor,  and  tell  him  that  you  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him  short  of  a  full  account  and  com- 
plete restitution." 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  said  Harry. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  have  passed  my  word." 

"  I  think,  young  man,  you  said  you  were  a  cabinet-maker — 
though  you  look  something  better." 

"  Yes,  I  belong  to  that  trade." 

"Since  when,  may  I  ask,  have  cabinet-makers  been  so  punc- 
tilious as  to  their  promises  ?" 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Harry,  gravely,  "  we  have  turned  over  a 
new  leaf,  and  are  now  all  on  the  side  of  truth  and  honor." 

"  Humph  !  Then  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  the  man 
a  receipt  in  full  and  a  discharge.  You  are  of  age ;  you  can  do 
this  if  you  like.  Shall  I  draw  it  up  for  you,  and  receive  the 
money,  and  take  over  the  houses  ?" 

This  was  settled,  therefore,  and  in  this  way  Harry  became  a 
rich  man,  with  houses  and  money  in  the  funds. 

As  for  Bunker,  he  made  the  greatest  mistake  in  his  life  when 
he  sent  his  nephew  to  Mr.  Pike.  He  should  have  known,  but 
he  was  like  the  ostrich  when  he  runs  his  head  into  the  sand, 
and  believes  from  the  secure  retreat  that  he  is  invisible  to  his 
hunters.  For  his  own  version  of  the  incident  was  palpably  ab- 
surd ;  and,  besides,  Mr.  Pike  heard  Harry's  account  of  the  mat- 
ter. Therefore,  though  Bunker  thought  to  heap  coals  of  fire 
upon  his  enemy's  head,  he  only  succeeded  in  throwing  them  un- 
der his  feet,  which  made  him  kick — "  for  who  can  go  upon  hot 
coals  and  his  feet  not  be  burned?"  The  good  man  is  now, 
therefore,  laboring  under  a  cloud  of  prejudice  which  does  not 
seem  to  lift,  though  perhaps  he  will  live  it  down.  Other  events 
have  happened  since,  which  have  operated  to  his  prejudice. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  366 

Everybody  knows  how  hie  received  his  nephew ;  what  wicked 
things  he  said  everywhere  about  him,  and  what  rumors  he 
spread  about  Miss  Kennedy:  everybody  knows  that  he  had  to 
disgorge  houses — actually  houses — which  he  had  appropriated. 
This  knowledge  is  common  property ;  and  it  is  extremely  un- 
pleasant for  Mr.  Bunker  when  he  takes  his  walks  abroad  to  be 
cruelly  assailed  by  questions  which  hit  harder  than  any  brickbat ; 
they  are  hurled  at  him  by  workingmen  and  by  street  boys. 
"  Who  stole  the  'ouse  ?"  for  instance,  is  a  very  nasty  thing  to  be 
said  to  a  gentleman  who  is  professionally  connected  with  house 
property.  I  know  not  how  this  knowledge  came  to  be  so  gen- 
erally known.  Certainly  Harry  did  not  spread  it  abroad.  Peo- 
ple, however,  are  not  fools,  and  can  put  things  together :  where 
the  evil-doings  and  backslidings  of  their  friends  are  concerned 
they  are  exceedingly  sharp. 

Now  when  the  ownership  of  the  house  in  Stepney  Green  be- 
came generally  known,  there  immediately  sprang  up,  as  always 
happens  on  occasions  of  discovery,  rooting-out  of  facts,  or  ex- 
posure of  wickedness,  quite  a  large  crop  of  old  inhabitants  ready 
to  declare  that  they  knew  all  along  that  the  house  on  Stepney 
Green  was  one  of  those  belonging  to  old  Mr.  Coppin.  He 
bought  it,  they  said,  of  Mr.  Messenger,  who  was  born  there ; 
and  it  was  one  of  three  left  to  Caroline,  who  died  young.  Who 
would  believe  that  Mr.  Bunker  could  have  been  so  wicked? 
Where  is  faith  in  brother  man  since  so  eminent  a  professor  of 
honesty  has  fallen  ? 

Mr.  Bunker  suffers,  but  he  suffers  in  silence ;  he  may  be  seen 
any  day  in  the  neighborhood  of  Stepney  Green,  still  engaged  in 
his  usual  business :  people  may  talk  behind  his  back,  but  talk 
breaks  no  bones ;  they  don't  dare  talk  before  his  face :  though 
he  has  lost  two  thousand  pounds,  there  is  still  money  left — he 
feels  that  he  is  a  warm  man,  and  has  money  to  leave  behind 
him :  it  will  be  said  of  him  that  he  cut  up  well.  Warmth  of  all 
kinds  comforts  a  man ;  but  he  confesses  with  a  pang  that  he  did 
wrong  to  send  his  nephew  to  that  lawyer,  who  took  the  oppor- 
tunity, when  he  drew  up  the  discharge  and  receipt,  of  giving 
him  an  opinion — unasked  and  unpaid  for — as  to  his  conduct  in 
connection  with  the  trust.  There  could  be  no  mistake  at  all 
about  the  meaning  and  force  of  that  opinion.  And,  oddly 
enough,  whenever  Mr.  Bunker  sees  the  queen's  omnibus — that 


366  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

dark-painted  vehicle,  driven  by  a  policeman  —  pass  along  the 
road,  he  thinks  of  Mr.  Pike,  and  that  opinion  returns  to  his 
memory,  and  he  feels  just  exactly  as  if  a  bucket  of  cold  water 
was  trickling  down  his  back  by  the  nape  of  the  neck.  Even  in 
warm  weather  this  is  disagreeable.  And  it  shows  that  the  law- 
ver  must  have  spoken  very  strong  words  indeed,  and  that  al- 
though Mr.  Bunker,  like  the  simple  ones  and  the  scorncrs, 
wished  for  none  of  the  lawyers'  counsel,  unlike  them  he  did  not 
despise  their  reproof.  Yet  he  is  happier,  now  that  the  blow  has 
fallen,  than  he  was  while  he  was  awaiting  it  and  dreaming  of 
handcuffs. 

We  anticipate :  but  we  have,  indeed,  seen  almost  the  last  of 
Mr.  Bunker.    It  is  sad  to  part  with  him.    But  we  have  no  choice. 

In  the  evening  Harry  went  as  usual  to  the  drawing-room.  He 
stayed,  however,  after  the  girls  went  away.  There  was  nothing 
unusual  in  his  doing  so.  "  Girls  in  my  position,"  said  the  dress- 
maker, "  are  not  tied  by  the  ordinary  rules."  To-night,  how- 
ever, he  had  something  to  say. 

"  Congratulate  me,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone.  "  I 
have  turned  out,  as  the  story-books  say,  to  be  the  heir  to  vast 
sums  of  money." 

Angela  turned  pale.  She  was  reassured,  however,  on  learning 
the  extent  of  the  heritage. 

"  Consider  my  romantic  story,"  said  Harry.  "  Instead  of 
finding  myself  the  long-lost  heir,  strawberry-mark  and  all,  to  an 
earldom,  I  am  the  son  of  a  sergeant  in  the  line.  And  then,  just 
as  I  am  getting  over  the  blow,  I  find  myself  the  owner  of  three 
houses  and  two  thousand  pounds.  What  workman  ever  got  two 
thousand  pounds  before  ?  There  was  an  under-gardener  I  knew," 
he  went  on,  meditatively,  "  who  once  got  a  hundred :  he  called 
it  a  round  hundred,  I  remember.  He  and  his  wife  went  on  the 
Hospitable  Drink  for  a  fortnight ;  then  they  went  to  hospital  for 
a  month  with  trimmings ;  and  then  went  back  to  work — the 
money  all  gone — and  joined  the  Primitive  Methodists.  Can't 
we  do  something  superior  in  the  shape  of  a  burst,  or  a  boom, 
for  the  girls,  with  two  thousand  pounds  ?" 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Angela,  "  how  you  got  it." 

He  narrated  the  whole  story,  for  her  instruction  and  amuse- 
ment, with  some  dramatic  force  impersonating  Bunker's  wrath, 
terror,  and  entreaties,  and  final  business-like  collapse. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  367 

"  So  that,"  said  Angela,  "  you  are  now  a  man  of  property,  and 
■will,  I  suppose,  give  up  the  work  at  the  Brewery." 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  ?" 

"  I  do  not  like  to  see  any  man  idle,  and " — she  hesitated — 
'*  especially  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Harry.  "  Then  I  remain.  The  question 
of  the  two  thousand  pounds — my  cool  two  thousand — I  am  the 
winner  of  the  two  thousand — in  reserve.  As  for  this  house, 
however,  decided  steps  must  be  taken.  Listen,  Queen  of  the 
Mystery  of  Dress !  You  pay  Bunker  sixty-five  pounds  a  year 
or  so  for  the  rent  of  this  house ;  that  is  a  good  large  deduction 
from  the  profits  of  the  association.  I  have  been  thinking,  if 
you  approve,  that  I  will  have  this  house  conveyed  to  you  in 
trust  for  the  association.     Then  you  will  be  rent-free." 

"  But  that  is  a  very,  very  generous  offer.  You  really  wish  to 
give  us  this  house  altogether  for  ourselves  ?" 

"  If  you  will  accept  it." 

"  You  have  only  these  houses,  and  you  give  us  the  best  of 
them.     Is  it  right  and  just  to  strip  yourself  ?" 

"  How  many  houses  should  I  have  ?  Now  there  are  two  left, 
and  their  rent  brings  in  seventy  pounds  a  year,  and  I  have  two 
thousand  pounds,  which  will  bring  in  another  eighty  pounds 
a  year.  I  am  rich  —  much  too  rich  for  a  common  cabinet- 
maker." 

"  Oh !"  she  said,  "  what  can  we  do  but  accept  ?  And  how 
shall  we  show  our  gratitude  ?     But,  indeed,  we  can  do  nothing." 

"I  want  nothing,"  said  Harry.  "  I  have  had  so  much  happi- 
ness in  this  place  that  I  can  want  for  nothing.  It  is  for  me  to 
show  my  gratitude." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied,  giving  him  her  hand.  He  stooped 
and  kissed  it,  but  humbly,  as  one  who  accepts  a  small  favor 
gratefully  and  asks  for  no  more. 

They  were  alone  in  the  drawing-room  ;  the  fire  was  low ;  only 
one  lamp  was  burning ;  Angela  was  sitting  beside  the  fire ;  her 
face  was  turned  from  him.  A  mighty  wave  of  love  was  mount- 
ing in  the  young  man's  brain;  but  a  little  more,  a  very  little 
more,  and  he  would  have  been  kneeling  at  her  feet.  She  felt 
the  danger:  she  felt  it  the  more  readily  because  she  was  so 
deeply  moved  herself.  What  had  she  given  the  girls,  out  of  her 
abundance,  compared  with  what  he  had  given  out  of  his  slender 


368  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

portion?  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Then  she  sprang  to  her 
feet  and  touched  his  hand  again. 

'*  Do  not  forget  your  promise,"  she  said. 

"  My  promise  ?     Oh  !  how  long — " 

"Patience,"  she  replied.  "Give  me  a  little  while — a  little 
while — only — and — " 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  kissing  her  hand  again.  "Forgive 
me." 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  went  on.  "  It  is  eleven  o'clock."  They 
put  out  the  lamp  and  went  out.     The  night  was  clear  and  bright. 

"  Do  not  go  in  just  yet,"  said  Harry.  "  It  is  pleasant  out 
here,  and  I  think  the  stars  are  brighter  than  they  are  at  the 
West  End." 

"  Everything  is  better  here,"  said  Angela,  "  than  at  the  West 
End.  Here  we  have  hearts,  and  can  feel  for  each  other.  Here 
we  are  all  alike — workmen  and  workwomen  together." 

"  You  are  a  prejudiced  person.  Let  us  talk  of  the  Palace  of 
Delight — your  dream." 

"  Your  invention,"  said  Angela. 

"  Won't  my  two  thousand  go  some  way  to  starting  it  ?  Per- 
haps, if  we  could  just  start  it,  the  thing  would  go  on  of  its  own 
accord.    Why,  see  what  you  have  done  with  your  girls  already." 

"  But  I  must  have  a  big  palace — a  noble  building,  furnished 
with  everything  that  we  want.  No,  my  friend,  we  will  take 
your  house  because  it  is  a  great  and  noble  gift,  but  you  shall 
not  sacrifice  your  money.  Yet  we  will  have  that  palace,  and 
before  long.     And  when  it  is  ready — " 

"  Yes,  when  it  is  ready." 

"  Perhaps  the  opening  of  the  palace  will  be,  for  all  of  us,  the 
beginning  of  a  new  happiness." 

"  You  speak  in  a  parable." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  speak  in  sober  earnestness.  Now  let  me 
go.  Remember  what  I  say :  the  opening  of  the  palace  may  be, 
if  you  will — for  all  of  us — " 

"  For  you  and  me  ?" 

"  For — yes — for  you— rand  for  me.     Good-night." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MKN.  369 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

LADY    DAVENANt's    DINNER-PARTY. 

Lady  Davenant  had  now  been  in  full  enjoyment  of  her  title 
in  Portman  Square,  where  one  enjoys  such  things  more  thor- 
oughly than  on  Stepney  Green,  for  four  or  five  weeks.  She  at 
first  enjoyed  it  so  much  that  she  thought  of  nothing  but  the 
mere  pleasure  of  greatness.  She  felt  an  uplifting  of  heart  every 
time  she  walked  up  and  down  the  stately  stairs ;  another  every 
time  she  sat  at  the  well-furnished  dinner-table ;  and  another 
whenever  she  looked  about  her  in  the  drawing-room.  She  wrote 
copious  letters  to  her  friend  Aurelia  Tucker  during  these  days. 
She  explained  with  fulness  of  detail,  and  in  terms  calculated  to 
make  that  lady  expire  of  envy,  the  splendor  of  her  position ; 
and  for  at  least  five  weeks  she  felt  as  if  the  hospitality  of  Miss 
Messenger  actually  brought  with  it  a  complete  recognition  of  the 
claim.  Her  husband,  not  so  sanguine  as  herself,  knew  very  well 
that  the  time  would  come  when  the  case  would  have  to  be  taken 
up  again  and  sent  in  to  the  proper  quarter  for  examination. 
Meantime  he  was  resigned,  and  even  happy.  Three  square 
meals  a  day,  each  of  them  abundant,  each  a  masterpiece  of  art, 
were  enough  to  satisfy  that  remarkable  twist  which,  as  her  lady- 
ship was  persuaded,  one  knows  not  on  what  grounds,  had  always 
been  a  distinguishing  mark  of  the  Davenants.  Familiarity 
speedily  reconciled  him  to  the  presence  of  the  footmen;  he 
found  in  the  library  a  most  delightful  chair  in  which  he  could 
sleep  all  the  morning ;  and  it  pleased  him  to  be  driven  through 
the  streets  in  a  luxurious  carriage  under  soft,  warm  furs,  in 
which  one  can  take  the  air  and  get  a  splendid  appetite  without 
fatigue. 

They  were  seen  about  a  great  deal.  It  was  a  part  of  Angela's 
design  that  they  should,  when  the  time  came  for  going  back 
again,  seem  to  themselves  to  have  formed  a  part  of  the  best  so- 
ciety in  London.  Therefore  she  gave  instructions  to  her  maid 
16* 


370  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MKN. 

that  her  visitors  were  to  go  to  all  the  public  places,  the  theatres, 
concerts,  exhibitions,  and  places  of  amusement.  The  little 
American  lady  knew  so  little  what  she  ought  to  see  and  whither 
she  ought  to  go  that  she  fell  back  on  Campion  for  advice  and 
help.  It  was  Campion  who  suggested  a  theatre  in  the  evening, 
the  Exhibition  of  Old  blasters  or  the  Grosvenor  Gallery  in  the 
morning,  and  Regent  Street  in  the  afternoon ;  it  was  Campion 
who  pointed  out  the  recognized  superiority  of  Westminster  Ab- 
bey, considered  as  a  place  of  worship  for  a  lady  of  exalted  rank, 
over  a  chapel  up  a  back  street,  of  the  Baptist  persuasion,  to 
which  at  her  own  home  Lady  Davenant  had  belonged.  It  was 
Campion  who  went  with  her  and  showed  her  the  shops,  and 
taught  her  the  delightful  art  of  spending  her  money — the  money 
"  lent "  her  by  Miss  Messenger — in  the  manner  becoming  to  a 
peeress.  She  was  so  clever  and  sharp  that  she  caught  at  ev- 
ery hint  dropped  by  the  lady's-maid;  she  reformed  her  hus- 
band's ideas  of  evening-dress ;  she  humored  his  weaknesses ; 
she  let  him  keep  his  eyes  wide  open  at  a  farce  or  a  ballet  on  the 
understanding  that  at  a  concert  or  a  sermon  he  might  blame- 
lessly sleep  through  it :  she  even  began  to  acquire  rudimentary 
ideas  on  the  principles  of  art. 

"  I  confess,  my  dear  Aurelia,"  she  wrote,  "  that  habit  soon 
renders  even  these  marble  halls  familiar.  I  have  become  per- 
fectly reconciled  to  the  splendor  of  English  patrician  life,  and 
now  feel  as  if  I  had  been  born  to  it.  Tall  footmen  no  longer 
frighten  me,  nor  the  shouting  of  one's  name  after  the  theatre.  Of 
course,  the  outward  marks  of  respect  one  receives  as  one's  due, 
when  one  belongs,  by  the  gift  of  Providence,  to  a  great  and  no- 
ble house." 

This  was  all  very  pleasant ;  yet  Lady  Davenant  began  to  yearn 
for  somebody,  if  it  were  only  Mrs.  Bormalack,  with  whom  she 
could  converse.  She  wanted  a  long  chat.  Perhaps  Miss  Ken- 
nedy, or  Mrs.  Bormalack,  or  the  sprightly  Mr.  Goslett,  might  be 
induced  to  come  and  spend  a  morning  with  her,  or  a  whole  day, 
if  only  they  would  not  feel  shy  and  frightened  in  so  splendid  a 
place. 

Meantime  some  one  *'  connected  with  the  press  "  got  to  hear 
of  a  soi-disant  Lord  Davenant  who  was  often  to  be  seen  with 
his  wife  in  boxes  at  theatres  and  other  places  of  resort.  He 
heard,  this  intellectual  connection  of  the  press,  people  asking 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  371 

each  other  who  Lord  Davenant  was ;  he  inquired  of  the  Red 
Book,  and  received  no  response ;  he  thereupon  perceived  that 
here  was  an  opportunity  for  a  sensation  and  a  mystery.  He 
found  out  where  Lord  Davenant  was  living,  by  great  good  luck 
— it  was  through  taking  a  single  four  of  whiskey  in  a  bar  fre- 
quented by  gentlemen  in  plush ;  and  he  proceeded  to  call  upon 
his  lordship  and  to  interview  him. 

The  result  appeared  in  a  long  communique  which  attracted 
general  and  immediate  interest.  The  journalist  set  forth  at 
length  and  in  the  most  graphic  manner  the  strange  and  roman- 
tic career  of  the  condescending  wheelwright ;  he  showed  how 
the  discovery  was  made,  and  how,  after  many  years,  the  illustri- 
ous pair  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  put  forward  their  claim ; 
and  how  they  were  offered  the  noble  hospitality  of  a  young  lady 
of  princely  fortune.  It  was  a  most  delightful  godsend  to  the 
paper  in  which  it  appeared,  and  it  came  at  a  time  when  the 
House  was  not  sitting,  and  there  was  no  wringle-wrangle  of  de- 
bates to  furnish  material  for  the  columns  of  big  type  which  are 
supposed  to  sway  the  masses.  The  other  papers  therefore  seized 
upon  the  topic  and  had  leading  articles  upon  it,  in  which  the 
false  Demetrius,  the  pretending  Palaeologus,  Perkin  Warbeck, 
Lambert  Simnel,  George  Psalmanazar,  the  Languishing  Noble- 
man, the  Earl  of  Mar,  the  Count  of  Albany,  with  other  claims 
and  claimants,  furnished  illustrations  to  the  claims  of  the  Dave- 
nants.  The  publicity  given  to  the  case  by  these  articles  delight- 
ed her  ladyship  beyond  everything,  while  it  abashed  and  con- 
founded her  lord.  He  saw  in  it  the  beginning  of  more  exertion, 
and  strenuous  efforts  after  the  final  recognition.  And  she  care- 
fully cut  out  all  the  articles  and  sent  them  to  her  nephew  Nich- 
olas, to  her  friend  Aurelia  Tucker,  and  to  the  editor  of  the 
Canaan  City  Express,  with  her  compliments.  And  she  felt  all 
the  more,  in  the  midst  of  this  excitement,  that  if  she  did  not 
have  some  one  to  talk  to  she  must  go  back  to  Stepney  Green 
and  spend  a  day.     Or  she  would  die. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Campion,  perhaps  inspired  by  se- 
cret instructions,  suggested  that  her  ladyship  must  be  feeling  a 
little  lonely,  and  must  want  to  see  her  friends.  Why  not,  she 
said,  ask  them  to  dinner  ? 

A  dinner-party.  Lady  Davenant  reflected,  would  serve  not  only 
to  show  her  old  friends  the  reality  of  her  position,  but  would 


372  ALL  SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

also  please  them  as  a  mark  of  kindly  remembrance.  Only,  she 
reflected,  dinner  at  Stepney  Green  had  not  the  same  meaning 
that  it  possesses  at  the  West  End.  The  best  dinner,  in  that  lo- 
cality, is  that  which  is  most  plentiful,  and  there  are  no  attempts 
made  to  decorate  a  table.  Another  thing,  dinner  is  taken  uni- 
versally between  one  o'clock  and  two.  "  I  think,  Clara  Martha," 
said  his  lordship,  whom  she  consulted  in  this  affair  of  state, 
"  that  at  any  time  of  day  such  a  Feast  of  Belteshazzar  as  you 
will  give  them  will  be  grateful ;  and  they  may  call  it  dinner  or 
supper,  whichever  they  please." 

Thereupon  Lady  Davenant  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Bormalack  in- 
viting the  whole  party.  She  explained  that  they  had  met  with  the 
most  splendid  hospitality  from  Miss  Messenger,  in  whose  house 
they  were  still  staying ;  that  they  had  become  public  charac- 
ters, and  had  been  the  subject  of  discussion  in  the  papers,  which 
caused  them  to  be  much  stared  at  and  followed  in  the  streets,  and 
in  theatres  and  concert-rooms ;  that  they  were  both  convinced 
that  their  case  would  soon  be  triumphant ;  that  they  frequently 
talked  over  old  friends  of  Stepney,  and  regretted  that  the  dis- 
tance between  them  was  so  great — though  distance,  she  added 
kindly,  cannot  divide  hearts ;  and  that,  if  Mrs.  Bormalack's  party 
would  come  over  together  and  dine  with  them,  it  would  be  taken 
as  a  great  kindness,  both  by  herself  and  by  his  lordship.  She 
added  that  she  hoped  they  would  all  come,  including  Mr.  Fagg 
and  old  Mr.  Maliphant,  and  Mr.  Josephus,  "  though,"  she  added 
with  a  little  natural  touch,  "  I  doubt  whether  Mr.  Maliphant  ever 
gave  me  a  thought ;  and  Mr.  Josephus  was  always  too  much  oc- 
cupied with  his  own  misfortunes  to  mind  any  business  of  mine. 
And,  dear  Mrs.  Bormalack,  please  remember  that  when  we  speak 
of  dinner  we  mean  what  you  call  supper.  It  is  exactly  the  same 
thing,  only  served  a  little  earlier.  We  take  ours  at  eight  o'clock 
instead  of  nine.  His  lordship  desires  me  to  add  that  he  shall  be 
extremely  disappointed  if  Mr.  Goslett  does  not  come ;  and  you 
will  tell  Miss  Kennedy,  whose  kindness  I  can  never  forget,  the 
same  from  me,  and  that  she  must  bring  Nelly  and  Rebekah  and 
Captain  Sorensen." 

The  letter  was  received  with  great  admiration.  Josephus,  who 
had  blossomed  into  a  completely  new  suit  of  clothes  of  juvenile 
cut,  declared  that  the  invitation  did  her  ladyship  great  credit,  and 
that  now  his  misfortunes  were  finished  he  should  be  rejoiced  to 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  373 

take  his  place  in  society.  Harry  laughed,  and  said  that  of  course 
he  would  go.     "  And  you,  Miss  Kennedy  ?" 

Angela  colored.     Then  she  said  that  she  would  try  to  go. 

"And  if  Mr.  Maliphant  and  Daniel  only  go  too,"  said  Hai-ry, 
"  we  shall  be  as  delightful  a  party  as  were  ever  gathered  together 
at  one  dinner-table." 

It  happened  that  about  this  time  Lord  Jocelyn  remembered 
the  American  claimants,  and  his  promise  to  call  upon  them.  He 
therefore  called,  and  was  received  with  the  greatest  cordiality  by 
her  little  ladyship,  and  with  wondrous  affability,  as  becomes  one 
man  of  rank  towards  another,  by  Lord  Davenant. 

It  was  her  ladyship  who  volubly  explained  their  claim  to  him, 
and  the  certainty  of  the  assumption  that  their  Timothy  Clitheroe 
was  the  lost  heir  of  the  same  two  Christian  names  :  her  husband 
only  folded  his  fat  hands  over  each  other,  and  from  time  to  time 
wagged  his  head. 

"  You  are  the  first  of  my  husband's  brother  peers,"  she  said, 
"  who  has  called  upon  us.  We  shall  not  forget  this  kindness 
from  your  lordship." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  peer  at  all,"  he  explained ;  "  I  am  only  a 
younger  son  with  a  courtesy  title.  I  am  quite  a  small  person- 
kge." 

"  Which  makes  it  all  the  kinder,"  said  her  ladyship ;  "  and  I 
must  say  that,  grand  as  it  is  in  this  big  house,  one  does  get  tired 
of  hearin'  no  voice  but  your  own — and  my  husband  spends  a 
good  deal  of  his  time  in  the  study.  Oh !  a  man  of  great  liter- 
ary attainments,  and  a  splendid  mathematician.  I  assure  your 
lordship  not  a  man  or  a  boy  in  Canaan  City  can  come  near  him 
in  algebra." 

"  Up  to  a  certain  point,  Clara  Martha,"  said  her  husband,  mean- 
ing  that  there  might  be  lofty  heights  in  science  to  which  even 
he  himself  could  not  soar.     "  Quadratic  equations,  my  lord." 

Lord  Jocelyn  made  an  original  remark  about  the  importance 
of  scientific  pursuits. 

"  And  since  you  are  so  friendly,"  continued  her  ladyship,  "  I 
will  venture  to  invite  your  lordship  to  dine  with  us." 

"  Certainly.     I  shall  be  greatly  pleased." 

"  We  have  got  a  few  friends  coming  to-morrow  evening,"  said 
her  ladyship,  rather  grandly.     "  Friends  from  Whitechapel." 

Lord  Jocelyn  looked  curious. 


374  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Josephus  Coppin  and  his  cousin  Mr.  Goslett,  a 
sprightly  young  man  who  respects  rank." 

"  lie  is  coming,  is  he  ?"  asked  Lord  Jocelyn,  laughing. 

"  And  then  there  is  Miss  Kennedy — " 

"  She  is  coming  to  ?"  He  rose  with  alacrity.  "  Lady  Dave- 
nant,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  come,  I  assure  you." 

It  was  most  unfortunate  that  next  day  Miss  Kennedy  had 
such  a  dreadful  headache  that  she  found  herself  prevented  from 
going  with  the  rest.  This  was  a  great  disappointment,  and  at 
the  last  moment  old  Mr.  Maliphant  could  not  be  found,  and  they 
had  to  start  without  him. 

How  they  performed  the  journey,  how  Harry  managed  to  let 
most  of  the  party  go  on  before,  because  of  his  foolish  pride, 
which  would  not  let  him  form  one  of  a  flock  all  going  out  to- 
gether, and  how  he  with  Captain  Sorensen  and  Nelly  came  on 
after  the  rest,  may  be  passed  over. 

When  he  got  to  Portman  Square,  he  found  the  first  detach- 
ment already  arrived,  and,  to  his  boundless  astonishment,  his 
guardian.  Lady  Davenant,  arrayed  in  her  black  velvet  and  the 
jewels  which  Angela  gave  her,  looked  truly  magnificent.  Was 
it  possible,  Mrs.  Bormalack  thought,  that  such  a  transformation 
could  be  effected  in  a  woman  by  a  velvet  gown  ?  She  even 
looked  tall.  She  received  her  friends  with  unaffected  kindness, 
and  introduced  them  all  to  Lord  Jocelyn. 

"  Mrs.  Bormalack,  your  lordship,  my  former  landlady,  and  al- 
ways my  very  good  friend.  Professor  Climo,  your  lordship,  the 
famous  conjurer.  And  I'm  sure  the  way  he  makes  things  disap- 
pear makes  you  believe  in  magic.  Mr.  Fagg,  the  great  scholar ; 
of  whom,  perhaps,  your  lordship  has  heard.  Mr.  Josephus  Cop- 
pin,  who  has  been  unfortunate."  Lord  Jocelyn  wondered  what 
that  meant.  "  Miss  Rebekah  Hermitage,  whose  father  is  minis- 
ter of  the  Seventh-day  Independents,  and  a  most  respectable  con- 
nection, though  small  in  number.  Captain  Sorensen,  your  lord- 
ship, who  comes  from  the  Trinity  Almshouse,  and  Nelly  his 
daughter :  and  Mr.  Goslett.  And  I  think  that  is  all ;  and  the 
sooner  they  let  us  have  dinner  the  better." 

Lord  Jocelyn  shook  hands  with  everybody,  ^^^len  it  came 
to  Harry,  he  laughed,  and  they  both  laughed,  but  they  did  not 
say  why. 

"  And  where  is  Miss  Kennedy  ?"  asked  her  ladyship.     And 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  375 

tlicre  were  great  lamentations.  "  I  wanted  your  lordsliip  to  see 
Miss  Kennedy.  Oh,  there's  nobody  like  Miss  Kennedy — is  there, 
Nelly  ?" 

"  Nobody,"  said  Nelly.  "  There  can  be  nobody  like  Miss 
Kennedy."  Lord  Jocelyn  was  struck  with  the  beauty  of  this 
girl,  whom  he  remembered  seeing  at  the  dressmakery.  He  be- 
gan to  hope  that  she  would  sit  next  to  him  at  dinner. 

"  Nobody  half  so  beautiful  in  all  Stepney,  is  there  ?" 

"  Nobody  half  so  good,"  said  Rebekah. 

Then  the  dinner  was  announced,  and  there  was  confusion  in 
going  down,  because  nobody  would  go  before  Lord  Jocelyn,  who, 
therefore,  had  to  lead  the  way.  Lord  Davenant  offered  his  arm 
to  Mrs.  Bormalack,  Harry  to  Nelly,  and  Captain  Sorensen  to  Re- 
bekah.    The  professor,  Mr.  Fagg,  and  Josephus  came  last. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Bormalack,  looking  about  her,  thank- 
ful that  she  had  put  on  her  best  cap,  "  magnificence  was  expected, 
as  was  your  lordship's  due,  but  such  as  this — no,  young  man,  I 
never  take  soup  unless  I've  made  it  myself,  and  am  quite  sure — 
such  as  this,  my  lord,  we  did  not  expect." 

She  was  splendid  in  her  beautiful  best  cap,  all  ribbons  and 
bows,  with  an  artificial  dahlia  in  it  of  a  far-off  fashion — say,  the 
Forties:  the  sight  of  the  table,  with  its  plate  and  flowers  and 
fruit,  filled  her  with  admiration,  but,  as  she  now  says  in  recalling 
that  stupendous  feed,  there  was  too  much  ornament,  which  kept 
her  mind  off  the  cooking,  so  that  she  really  carried  away  no  new 
ideas  for  Stepney  use.  Nelly  did  sit  next  to  Lord  Jocelyn,  who 
talked  with  her,  and  found  that  she  was  shy  until  he  touched 
upon  Miss  Kennedy.  Then  she  waxed  eloquent,  and  told  him 
marvels,  forgetting  that  he  was  a  stranger  who  probably  knew 
and  cared  nothing  about  Miss  Kennedy.  But  Nelly  belonged  to 
that  very  numerous  class  which  believes  its  own  affairs  of  the 
highest  interest  to  the  world  at  large,  and  in  this  instance  Miss 
Kennedy  was  a  subject  of  the  deepest  interest  to  her  neighbors. 
Wherefore  he  listened  while  she  told  what  had  been  done  for 
the  workgirls  by  one  woman,  one  of  themselves. 

Opposite,  on  Lady  Davenant's  left,  sat  Captain  Sorensen.  In 
the  old  days  the  captams  of  East-Indiamen  were  not  unacquainted 
with  great  men's  tables,  but  it  was  long  since  he  had  sat  at  such 
a  feast.     Presently  Lord  Jocelyn  began  to  look  at  him  curiously. 

"  Who  is  the  old  gentleman  opposite  ?"  he  whispered  to  Nelly. 
2B 


876  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  That  is  my  father ;  he  was  a  captain  once,  and  commanded 
a  great  ship." 

"  I  thought  SO,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  I  remember  him,  but  he 
has  forgotten  me." 

Next  to  the  captain  sat  Rebekah,  looking  prepared  for  any  fate, 
and  not  unduly  uplifted  by  the  splendor  of  the  scene.  But  for 
her,  as  well  as  for  nearly  all  who  were  present,  the  word  dinner 
will  henceforth  have  a  new  and  exalted  meaning.  The  length 
of  the  feast,  the  number  of  things  offered,  the  appointments  of 
the  table,  struck  her  imagination ;  she  thought  of  Belshazzar  and 
of  Herod ;  such  as  the  feast  before  her  were  those  feasts  of  old : 
she  tasted  thfe  champagne,  and  it  took  away  her  breath :  yet  it 
seemed  good.  Mr.  Goslett  seemed  to  think  so  too,  because  he 
'drank  so  many  glasses. 

So  did  the  others,  and,  being  unexperienced  in  wine,  they  drank 
with  more  valor  than  discretion,  so  that  they  began  to  talk  loud ; 
but  that  was  not  till  later. 

"  Do  people — rich  people — always  dine  like  this  ?"  asked  Nelly 
of  her  neighbor. 

"  Something  like  this ;  yes  ;  that  is,  some  such  dinner,  though 
simpler,  is  always  prepared  for  them." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  she  said,  "  how  differently  people  live.  I 
would  rather  live  in  our  way — with  Miss  Kennedy — than  in  so 
much  grandeur." 

"  Grandeur  soon  becomes  a  matter  of  habit.  But  as  for  Miss 
Kennedy,  you  cannot  live  always  with  her,  can  you  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Well,  she  may  marry,  you  know." 

Nelly  looked  across  the  table  at  Harry. 

"  I  suppose  she  will ;  we  all  of  us  hope  she  will,  if  it  is  to  stay 
with  us ;  but  that  need  not  take  her  away  from  us." 

"  Do  you  know  Miss  Messenger  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Nelly  ;  "  she  has  been  very  kind  to  us ;  she  is  our 
best  customer ;  she  sends  us  all  sorts  of  kind  messages,  and  pres- 
ents even ;  and  she  sends  us  her  love  and  best  wishes ;  I  think 
she  must  be  very  fond  of  Miss  Kennedy.  She  promises  to  come 
some  day  and  visit  us.  Whenever  I  think  of  Miss  Messenger,  I 
think,  somehow,  that  she  must  be  like  Miss  Kennedy  ;  only  I  can- 
not understand  Miss  Kennedy  being  rich  and  the  owner  of  this 
great  house." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  377 

When  the  ladies  retired,  at  length,  it  became  manifest  that 
Josephus  had  taken  more  wine  than  was  good  for  him.  He 
laughed  loudly ;  he  told  everybody  that  he  was  going  to  begin  all 
over  again,  classes  and  lectures  and  everything,  including  the 
Sunday-school  and  the  church  membership.  The  professor, 
who,  for  his  part,  seemed  indisposed  for  conversation,  retained 
the  mastery  over  his  fingers,  and  began  to  prepare  little  tricks, 
and  presently  conveyed  oranges  into  Lord  Davenant's  coat-tails 
without  moving  from  his  chair.  And  Daniel  Fagg,  whose  cheek 
was  flushed,  and  whose  eyes  were  sparkling,  rose  from  his  chair 
and  attacked  Lord  Jocelyn,  note-book  in  hand. 

"  Is  your  lo'ship,"  he  began,  with  a  perceptible  thickness  of 
speech — Lord  Jocelyn  recognized  him  as  the  man  whom  he  had  ac- 
costed at  Stepney  Green,  and  who  subsequently  took  dinner  with 
the  girls — *'  is  your  lo'ship  int'rested  in  Hebrew  schriptions  ?" 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  politely. 

"  'Low  me  to  put  your  lo'ship's  name  down  for  schription, 
twelve-and-six  ?  Book  will  come  out  next  month,  Miss  Ken'dy 
says  so." 

"  Put  up  your  book,  Daniel,"  said  Harry,  sternly,  "  and  sit 
down." 

"  I  want — show — his  lo'ship — a  Hebrew  schription." 

He  sat  down,  however,  obediently,  and  immediately  fell  fast 
asleep. 

Said  Lord  Jocelyn  to  Captain  Sorensen — 

"  I  remember  you,  captain,  very  well  indeed,  but  you  have  for- 
gotten me.  Were  you  not  in  command  of  the  Sussex  in  the  year 
of  the  Mutiny  ?     Did  you  not  take  me  out  with  the  120th?" 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure  I  did ;  and  I  remember  your  lord- 
ship very  well,  and  am  very  glad  to  find  you  remember  me. 
You  were  younger  then." 

"  I  was ;  and  how  goes  it  with  you  now,  captain  ?  Cheerfully, 
as  of  old  ?" 

"Ay,  ay,  my  lord.  I'm  in  the  Trinity  Almshouse,  and  my 
daughter  is  with  Miss  Kennedy,  bless  her!  Therefore  I've 
nothing  to  complain  of." 

"  May  I  call  upon  you,  some  day,  to  talk  over  old  times  ?  You 
used  to  sing  a  good  song  in  those  days,  and  play  a  good  tune,  and 
dance  a  good  dance." 

"  Come,  mj  lord,  as  often  as  you  like,"  he  replied,  in  great 


378  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

good-humor.     "  The  cabin  is  small,  but  it's  cosey,  and  the  place 
is  hard  to  get  at." 

"  It  is  the  queerest  dinner  I  ever  had,  Harry,"  Lord  Jocelyn 
whispered.  "  I  like  your  old  captain  and  his  daughter.  Is  the 
hard-hearted  dressmaker  prettier  than  Nelly  ?" 

"  Prettier !  why,  there  is  no  comparison  possible." 

"  Yet  Nelly  hath  a  pleasing  manner." 

"  Miss  Kennedy  turns  all  her  girls  into  ladies.  Come  and  see 
her." 

"  Perhaps,  Harry,  perhaps ;  when  she  is  no  longer  hard-heart- 
ed ;  when  she  has  named  the  happy  day." 

"  This  evening,"  said  Lady  Davenant,  when  they  joined  her, 
"  will  be  one  that  I  can  never  forget.  For  I've  had  my  old 
friends  round  me,  who  were  kind  in  our  poverty  and  neglect ; 
and  now  I've  your  lordship  too,  who  belongs  to  the  new  time. 
So  that  it  is  a  joining  together,  as  it  were,  and  one  don't  feel 
like  stepping  out  of  our  place  into  another  quite  different,  as  I 
shall  tell  Aurelia,  who  says  she  is  afraid  that  splendor  may  make 
me  forget  old  friends ;  whereas  there  is  nobody  I  should  like  to 
have  with  us  this  moment  better  than  Aurelia.  But  perhaps  she 
judges  others  by  herself." 

"  Lor'!"  cried  Mrs.  Bormalack,  "  to  hear  your  ladyship  go  on ! 
It's  like  an  angel  of  goodness." 

"  And  the  only  thing  that  vexes  me — it's  enough  to  spoil  it  all 
— is  that  Miss  Kennedy  couldn't  come.  Ah !  my  lord,  if  you 
had  only  seen  Miss  Kennedy  ?  Rebekah  and  Nelly  are  two  good 
girls  and  pretty,  but  you  are  not  to  compare  with  Miss  Kennedy 
— are  you,  dears  ?" 
-    They  both  shook  their  heads  and  were  not  offended. 

It  was  past  eleven  when  they  left  to  go  home  in  cabs :  one  con- 
tained the  sleeping  forms  of  Josephus  and  Mr.  Fagg;  the  next 
contained  Captain  Sorensen  and  Nelly,  with  Harry.  The  pro- 
fessor, who  had  partly  revived,  came  with  Mrs.  Bormalack  and 
Ilebekah  in  the  last. 

"  You  seemed  to  know  Lord  Jocelyn,  Mr.  Goslett,"  said  the 
captain. 

"  I  ought  to,"  replied  Harry,  simply ;  "  he  gave  me  my  educa- 
tion." 

"  He  was  always  a  brave  and  generous  officer,  I  remember,"  the 
captain  went  on.    "  Yes,  I  remember  him  well ;  all  the  men  would 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  379 

have  followed  him  everywhere.    Well,  he  says  he  will  come  and 

see  me." 

"  Then  he  will  come,"  said  Harry,  "  if  he  said  so." 

"  Very  good  ;  if  he  comes,  he  shall  see  Miss  Kennedy  top." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE    END    OF    THE    CASE. 


This  dinner,  to  which  her  ladyship  will  always  look  back  with 
the  liveliest  satisfaction,  was  the  climax,  the  highest  point,  so  to 
speak,  of  her  greatness,  which  was  destined  to  have  a  speedy 
fall.  Angela  asked  Lord  Jocelyn  to  read  through  the  papers  and 
advise.  She  told  him  of  the  professor's  discovery,  and  of  the 
hook  which  had  belonged  to  the  wheelwright,  and  everything. 

Of  course,  the  opinion  which  he  formed  was  exactly  that 
formed  by  Angela  herself,  and  he  told  her  so. 

"  I  have  asked  them  to  my  house,"  Angela  wrote,  "  because  I 
want  them  to  go  home  to  their  own  people  with  pleasant  recol- 
lections of  their  stay  in  London.  I  should  like  them  to  feel,  not 
that  their  claim  had  broken  down,  and  that  they  were  defeated, 
but  that  it  had  been  examined,  and  was  held  to  be  not  proven. 
I  should  be  very  sorry  if  I  thought  that  the  little  lady  would 
cease  to  believe  in  her  husband's  illustrious  descent.  Will  you 
help  me  to  make  her  keep  her  faith  as  far  as  possible,  and  go 
home  with  as  little  disappointment  as  possible  ?" 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn. 

He  wrote  to  Lady  Davenant  that  he  had  given  careful  con- 
sideration to  the  case,  and  had  taken  opinions,  which  was  also 
true,  because  he  made  a  lawyer,  a  herald,  and  a  peer  all  read  the 
document,  and  write  him  a  letter  on  the  subject.  He  dictated 
all  three  letters,  it  is  true ;  but  there  is  generally  something  to 
conceal  in  this  world  of  compromises. 

He  went  solemnly  to  Portman  Square  bearing  these  precious 
documents  with  him.  To  Lady  Davenant  his  opinion  was  the 
most  important  step  which  had  yet  occurred  in  the  history  of 
the  claim :  she  placed  her  husband  in  the  hardest  arm-chair 
that  she  could  find,  with  strict  injunctions  to  keep  broad-awake ; 
and  she  had  a  great  array  of  pens  and  paper  laid  out  on  the 


380  ALL    SOKTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

table  in  order  to  look  business-like.  It  must  be  owned  that  the 
good  feeding  of  the  last  two  months,  with  carriage  exercise,  had 
greatly  increased  his  lordship's  tendency  to  sleep  and  inaction. 
As  for  the  case,  he  had  almost  ceased  to  think  of  it.  The  case 
meant  worry,  copying  out,  writing  and  rewriting,  hunting  up 
facts,  and  remembering :  when  the  case  was  put  away  he  could 
give  up  his  mind  to  breakfast,  lunch,  and  dinner.  Never  had 
the  present  moment  seemed  so  delightful  to  him. 

Lord  Jocelyn  wore  an  expression  of  great  gravity,  as  befitted 
the  occasion.  In  fact,  he  was  intrusted  with  an  exceedingly 
delicate  mission :  he  had  to  tell  these  worthy  people  that  there 
was  not  the  slightest  hope  for  them :  to  recommend  them  to  go 
home  again ;  and,  though  the  counsel  would  be  clothed  in 
sugared  words,  to  renounce  forever  the  hope  of  proving  their 
imaginary  claim.  But  it  is  better  to  be  told  these  things  kind- 
ly and  sympathetically,  by  a  man  with  a  title,  than  by  any 
coarse  or  common  lawyer. 

"Before  I  begin" — Lord  Jocelyn  addressed  himself  to  the 
lady  instead  of  her  husband — "I  would  ask  if  you  have  any 
relic  at  all  of  that  first  Timothy  Clitheroe  who  is  buried  in  your 
cemetery  at  Canaan  City  ?" 

"  There  is  a  book,"  said  her  ladyship.     "  Here  it  is." 

She  handed  him  a  little  book  of  songs,  roughly  bound  in 
leather ;  on  the  title-page  was  written  at  the  top  "  Satturday," 
and  at  the  bottom  "  Davvenant." 

Lord  Jocelyn  laid  the  book  down  and  opened  his  case. 

First,  he  reminded  them  that  Miss  Messenger  in  her  first  let- 
ter had  spoken  of  a  possible  moral,  rather  than  legal,  triumph ; 
of  a  possible  failure  to  establish  the  claim  before  a  committee 
of  the  House  of  Peers,  to  whom  it  would  be  referred.  This,  in 
his  opinion,  was  the  actual  difficulty :  he  had  read  the  case  as  it 
had  been  carefully  drawn  up  and  presented  by  his  lordship — 
and  he  complimented  the  writer  upon  his  lucid  and  excellent 
style  of  drawing  up  of  facts — and  he  had  submitted  the  case 
for  the  opinion  of  friends  of  his  own,  all  of  them  gentlemen 
eminently  proper  to  form  and  to  express  an  opinion  on  such  a 
subject.  He  held  the  opinions  of  these  gentlemen  in  his  hands. 
One  of  them  was  from  Lord  de  Lusignan,  a  nobleman  of  very 
ancient  descent.  His  lordship  wrote  that  there  were  very  strong 
grounds  for  supposing  it  right  to  investigate  a  case  which  pre- 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  381 

sented,  certainly,  very  remarkable  coincidences,  if  nothing  more : 
that  further  investigations  ought  to  be  made  on  the  spot:  and 
that,  if  this  Timothy  Clitheroe  Davenant  turned  out  to  be  the 
lost  heir,  it  would  be  another  romance  in  the  history  of  the  peer- 
age. And  his  lordship  concluded  by  a  kind  expression  of  hope 
that  more  facts  would  be  discovered  in  support  of  the  claim. 

"  You  will  like  to  keep  this  letter,"  said  the  reader,  giving 
it  to  Lady  Davenant.  She  was  horribly  pale  and  trembled, 
because  it  seemed  as  if  everything  was  slipping  from  her. 

"  The  other  letters,"  Lord  Jocelyn  went  on,  "  are  to  the  same 
effect.  One  is  from  a  lawyer  of  great  eminence,  and  the  other 
is  from  a  herald.  You  will  probably  like  to  keep  them  too, 
when  I  have  read  them." 

Lady  Davenant  took  the  letters,  which  were  cruel  in  their 
kindness,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

Lord  Jocelyn  went  on  to  say  that  researches  made  in  their 
interest  in  the  parish  registers  had  resulted  in  a  discovery  which 
might  even  be  made  into  an  argument  against  the  claim.  There 
was  a  foundling  child  baptized  in  the  church  in  the  same  year 
as  the  young  heir ;  he  received  the  name  of  the  village,  with 
the  day  of  the  week  on  which  he  was  found  for  Christian  name  ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  was  called  Saturday  Davenant. 

Then,  indeed,  his  lordship  became  very  red,  and  her  ladyship 
turned  still  paler,  and  both  looked  guilty.  Saturday  Davenant ! 
the  words  in  the  book.  Suppose  they  were  not  a  date  and  a 
name,  but  a  man's  whole  name  instead  ! 

"  He  left  the  parish,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn, "  and  was  reported 
to  have  gone  to  America." 

Neither  of  them  spoke.  His  lordship  looked  slowly  around 
the  room,  as  if  expecting  that  everything,  even  the  solid  mahog- 
any of  the  library  shelves,  would  vanish  suddenly  away.  And 
he  groaned,  thinking  of  the  dinners  which  would  soon  be  things 
of  the  golden  past. 

"  But,  my  friends,"  Lord  Jocelyn  went  on,  "  do  not  be  down- 
cast. There  is  always  the  possibility  of  new  facts  turning  up. 
Your  grandfather's  name  may  have  been  really  Timothy  Clith- 
oroe,  in  which  case  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  he  was  the  miss- 
ing heir ;  but  he  may,  on  the  other  hand,  have  been  the  Satur- 
day Davenant,  in  which  case  he  lived  and  died  with  a  lie  on  his 
lips,  which  one  would  be  sorry  to  think  possible." 


382  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN, 

"  Well,  sir — if  that  is  so — what  do  you  advise  that  we  should 
do  now  ?"  asked  the  grandson  of  this  mystery.  He  seemed  to 
have  become  an  American  citizen  again,  and  to  have  shaken  off 
the  aristocratic  manner. 

"  What  I  should  advise  is  this.  You  will  never,  most  certain- 
ly, never  get  recognition  of  your  claim  without  stronger  evidence 
than  you  at  present  offer.  On  the  other  hand,  no  one  will  re- 
fuse to  admit  that  you  have  a  strong  case.  Therefore  I  would 
advise  you  to  go  home  to  your  own  people,  to  tell  them  what 
has  happened — how  your  case  was  taken  up  and  carefully  con- 
sidered by  competent  authorities" — here  he  named  again  the 
lawyer,  the  herald,  and  the  peer — "  to  show  them  their  opinions, 
and  to  say  that  you  have  come  back  for  further  evidence,  if  you 
can  find  any,  which  will  connect  you  beyond  a  doubt  with  the 
lost  heir." 

"  That  is  good  advice,  sir,"  said  the  claimant.  *'  No,  Clara 
Martha,  for  once  I  will  have  my  own  way.  The  connection  is 
the  weak  point,  else  we  had  better  stay  there.  I  said,  all  along, 
that  we  ought  not  to  have  come.  Nevertheless,  I'm  glad  we 
came,  Clara  Martha.  I  sha'n't  throw  it  in  your  teeth  that  we 
did  come.  I'm  grateful  to  you  for  making  us  come.  We've 
made  good  friends  here,  and  seen  many  things  which  we  shouldn't 
otherwise  have  seen.  And  the  thought  of  this  house  and  the 
meals  we've  had  in  it — such  breakfasts,  such  luncheons,  such 
dinners — will  never  leave  us,  I  am  sure." 

Lady  Davenant  could  say  nothing.  She  saw  everything  torn 
from  her  at  a  rough  blow — her  title,  her  consideration,  the  envy 
of  her  fellow-citizens,  especially  of  Aurelia  Tucker.  She  put 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"You  should  not  go  back  as  if  you  were  defeated,"  Lord 
Jocelyn  went  on,  in  sympathy  with  the  poor  little  woman. 
"You  are  as  much  entitled  to  the  rank  you  claim  as  ever. 
More :  your  case  has  been  talked  about ;  it  is  known  :  should 
any  of  the  antiquaries  who  are  always  grubbing  about  parish 
records  find  any  scrap  of  information  which  may  help,  he  will 
make  a  note  of  it  for  you.  When  you  came  you  were  friend- 
less and  unknown.  Now  the  press  of  England  has  taken  you 
up :  your  story  is  romantic  :  we  are  all  interested  in  you,  and 
desirous  of  seeing  you  succeed.  Before  you  go  you  will  write 
to  the  papers  stating  why  you  go,  and  what  you  hope  to  find. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF   MEN.  383 

All  these  letters  and  papers  and  proofs  of  the  importance  of 
your  claim  should  be  kept  and  shown  to  your  friends." 

"  We  feel  mean  about  going  back,  and  that's  a  fact,"  said  his 
lordship.  "  Still,  if  we  must  go  back,  why,  we'd  better  go  back 
with  drums  and  trumpets  than  sneak  back — " 

"  Ah !"  said  his  wife,  "  if  you'd  only  shown  that  spirit  from 
the  beginning,  Timothy  I" 

He  collapsed. 

"  If  we  go  back,"  she  continued,  thoughtfully,  "  I  suppose 
there's  some  sort  of  work  we  can  find,  between  us.  Old  folks 
hadn't  ought  to  work  like  the  young,  and  I'm  sixty-five,  and  so 
is  my  husband.     But — " 

She  stopped,  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  am  empowered  by  Miss  Messenger,"  Lord  Jocelyn  went 
on,  with  great  softness  of  manner,  "  to  make  you  a  little  propo- 
sition. She  thinks  that  it  would  be  most  desirable  for  you  to 
have  your  hands  free  while  you  make  those  researches  which 
may  lead  to  the  discoveries  we  hope  for.  Now,  if  you  have  to 
waste  the  day  in  work  you  will  never  be  able  to  make  any  re- 
search. Therefore  Miss  Messenger  proposes — if  you  do  not 
mind — if  you  will  accept — an  annuity  on  your  joint  lives  of  six 
hundred  dollars.  You  may  be  thus  relieved  of  all  anxiety  about 
your  personal  wants.  And  Miss  Messenger  begs  only  that  you 
may  let  this  annuity  appear  the  offering  of  sympathizing  Eng- 
lish friends." 

*'  But  we  don't  know  Miss  Messenger,"  said  her  ladyship. 

"  Has  she  not  extended  her  hospitality  to  you  for  two  months 
and  more  ?     Is  not  that  a  proof  of  the  interest  she  takes  in  you  ?" 

"  Certainly  it  is.  Why — see  now — we've  been  living  here  so 
long,  that  we've  forgotten  it  is  all  Miss  Messenger's  gift." 

*'  Then  you  will  accept  ?" 

" Oh,  Lord  Jocelyn,  what  can  we  do  but  accept?" 

"  And  with  grateful  hearts,"  added  his  lordship.  "  Tell  her 
that.  With  grateful  hearts.  They've  a  way  of  serving  quail  in 
her  house,  that — "     He  stopped  and  sighed. 

They  have  returned  to  Canaan  City ;  they  live  in  simple  suf- 
ficiency. His  lordship,  when  he  is  awake,  has  many  tales  to  tell 
of  London.  His  friends  believe  Stepney  Green  to  be  a  part  of 
May-fair,  and  Mrs.  Bormalack  to  be  a  distinguished  though  un- 


384  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

titled  ornament  of  London  society  ;  while  as  for  Aurelia  Tucker, 
who  fain  would  scoff,  there  are  her  ladyship's  beautiful  and 
costly  dresses,  and  her  jewels,  and  the  letters  from  Lord  Jocelyn 
Le  Breton,  and  the  rich  Miss  Messenger,  and  the  six  hundred 
dollars  a  year  drawn  monthly,  which  proclaim  aloud  that  there 
is  something  in  the  claim. 

These  are  things  which  cannot  be  gainsaid. 

Nevertheless,  no  new  discoveries  have  yet  rewarded  his  lord- 
ship's researches. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE    PALACE    OF    DELIGHT. 


During  this  time  the  Palace  of  Delight  was  steadily  rising. 
Before  Christmas  its  walls  were  completed  and  the  roof  on. 
Then  began  the  painting,  the  decorating,  and  the  fittings.  •  And 
Angela  was  told  that  the  building  would  be  handed  over  to  her, 
complete  according  to  the  contract,  by  the  first  of  March. 

The  building  was  hidden  away,  so  to  speak,  in  a  corner  of 
vast  Stepney,  but  already  rumors  were  abroad  concerning  it,  and 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  erected.  They  were  conflicting 
rumors.  No  one  knew  at  all  what  was  intended  by  it :  no  one 
had  been  within  the  walls ;  no  one  knew  who  built  it.  The  place 
was  situated  so  decidedly  in  the  very  heart  and  core  of  Stepney, 
that  the  outside  public  knew  nothing  at  all  about  it,  and  the 
rumors  were  confined  to  the  small  folk  round  it.  So  it  rose 
in  their  midst  without  being  greatly  regarded.  No  report  or 
mention  of  it  came  to  Harry's  ears,  so  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
it,  and  suspected  nothing,  any  more  than  he  suspected  Miss 
Kennedy  of  being  some  other  person. 

The  first  of  March  in  this  present  year  of  grace  1882  fell 
upon  a  Wednesday.  Angela  resolved  that  the  opening  day 
should  be  on  Thursday,  the  second,  and  that  she  would  open  it 
herself :  and  then  another  thought  came  into  her  mind ;  and 
the  longer  she  meditated  upon  it,  the  stronger  hold  did  the  idea 
take  upon  her. 

The  Palace  of  Delight  was  not,  she  said,  her  own  conception : 
it  was  that  of  the  man — the  man  she  loved.     Would  it  not  be 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  385 

generous,  in  giving  this  place  over  to  the  people  for  whom  it 
was  built,  to  give  its  real  founder  the  one  reward  which  he  asked  ? 

Never  any  knight  of  old  had  been  more  loyal.  He  obeyed  in 
the  spirit  as  well  as  the  letter  her  injunction  not  to  speak  of 
love :  not  only  did  he  refrain  from  those  good  words  which  he 
would  fain  have  uttered,  but  he  showed  no  impatience,  grumbled 
not,  had  no  fits  of  sulking :  he  waited  patiently.  And  in  all 
other  things  he  did  her  behest,  working  with  a  cheerful  heart 
for  her  girls,  always  ready  to  amuse  them,  always  at  her  service 
for  things  great  and  small,  and  meeting  her  mood  with  a  ready 
sympathy. 

One  evening,  exactly  a  fortnight  before  the  proposed  opening 
day,  Angela  invited  all  the  girls,  and,  with  them,  her  faithful  old 
captain,  and  her  servant  Harry,  to  follow  her  because  she  had  a 
Thing  to  show  them.  She  spoke  with  great  seriousness,  and 
looked  overcome  with  the  gravity  of  this  Thing.  What  was 
she  going  to  show  them? 

The\  followed,  wondering,  while  she  led  the  way  to  the 
church,  and  then  turned  to  the  right  among  the  narrow  lanes  of 
a  part  where,  by  some  accident,  none  of  the  girls  belonged. 

Presently  she  stopped  before  a  great  building.  It  was  not 
lit  up,  and  seemed  quite  dark  and  empty.  Outside,  the  planks 
were  not  yet  removed,  and  they  were  covered  with  gaudy  ad- 
vertisements, but  it  was  too  dark  to  see  them.  There  was  a 
broad  porch  above  the  entrance,  with  a  generously  ample  ascent 
of  steps  like  unto  those  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  Angela  rang  a 
bell  and  the  door  was  opened.  They  found  themselves  in  an 
entrance-hall  of  some  kind,  imperfectly  lighted  by  a  single  gas- 
jet.  There  were  three  or  four  men  standing  about,  apparently 
waiting  for  them,  because  one  stepped  forward,  and  said, 

"  Miss  Messenger's  party  ?" 

"  We  are  Miss  Messenger's  party,"  Angela  replied. 

"  Whoever  we  are,"  said  Harry,  "  we  are  a  great  mystery  to 
ourselves." 

"  Patience,"  Angela  whispered  ;  "  part  of  the  mystery  is  go- 
ing to  be  cleared  up." 

"  Light  up,  Bill,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

Then  the  whole  place  passed  suddenly  into  daylight,  for  it 
was  lit  by  the  electric  globes. 

It  was  a  lofty  vestibule.  On  either  side  were  cloak-rooms; 
17 


386  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

opposite  were  entrance-doors.  But  wliat  was  on  the  other  side 
of  these  entrance-rooms  none  of  them  could  guess. 

"  My  friend,"  said  Angela  to  Harry,  "  this  place  should  be 
yours.     It  is  of  your  creation." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  It  is  your  Palace  of  Delight.  Yes ;  nothing  short  of  that. 
Will  you  lead  me  into  your  palace  ?" 

She  took  his  arm  while  he  marvelled  greatly,  and  asked  him- 
self what  this  might  mean.  One  of  the  men  then  opened  the 
doors,  and  they  entered,  followed  by  the  wondering  girls. 

They  found  themselves  in  a  lofty  and  very  spacious  hall.  At 
the  end  was  a  kind  of  throne — a  red  velvet  divan,  semicircular, 
under  a  canopy  of  red  velvet.  Statues  stood  on  either  side ; 
behind  them  was  a  great  organ ;  upon  the  walls  were  pictures. 
Above  the  pictures  were  trophies  in  arms ;  tapestry  carpets — all 
kinds  of  beautiful  things.  Above  the  entrance  was  a  gallery  for 
musicians ;  and  on  either  side  were  doors  leading  to  places  of 
which  they  knew  nothing. 

Miss  Kennedy  led  the  way  to  the  semicircular  divan  at  the 
end.  She  took  the  central  place,  and  motioned  the  girls  to  ar- 
range themselves  about  her.  The  effect  of  this  little  group  sit- 
ting by  themselves  and  in  silence,  at  the  end  of  the  great  hall, 
was  very  strange  and  wonderful. 

"  My  dears,"  she  said,  after  a  moment — and  the  girls  saw  that 
her  eyes  were  full  of  tears — "  my  dears,  I  have  got  a  wonderful 
story  to  tell  you.     Listen. 

"  There  was  a  girl,  once,  who  had  the  great  misfortune  to  be 
born  rich.  It  is  a  thing  which  many  people  desire.  She,  how- 
ever, who  had  it,  knew  what  a  misfortune  it  might  become  to 
her.  For  the  possessor  of  great  wealth,  more  especially  if  it  be 
a  woman,  attracts  all  the  designing  and  wicked  people  in  the 
world,  all  the  rogues  and  all  the  pretended  philanthropists  to  her, 
as  wasps  are  attracted  by  honey ;  and  presently,  by  sad  experi- 
ence, she  gets  to  look  on  all  mankind  as  desirous  only  of  rob- 
bing and  deceiving  her.  This  is  a  dreadful  condition  of  mind 
to  fall  into,  because  it  stands  in  the  way  of  love  and  friendship 
and  trust,  and  all  the  sweet  confidences  which  make  us  happy. 

"  This  girl's  name  was  Messenger.  Now,  when  she  was  quite 
young  she  knew  what  was  going  to  happen,  unless  she  managed 
somehow  differently  from  other  women  in  her  unhappy  position. 


ALL  SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  387 

And  she  determined  as  a  first  step  to  get  rid  of  a  large  quantity 
*of  her  wealth,  so  that  the  cupidity  of  the  robbers  might  be 
diverted. 

"  Now,  she  had  an  humble  friend — only  a  dressmaker — who, 
for  reasons  of  her  own,  loved  her,  and  would  have  served  her  if 
she  could.  And  this  dressmaker  came  to  live  at  the  East  End 
of  London. 

"  And  she  saw  that  the  gy'ls  who  have  to  work  for  their  bread 
are  treated  in  such  a  way  that  slavery  would  be  a  better  lot  for 
most  of  them.  For  they  have  to  work  twelve  hours  in  the  day, 
and  sometimes  more ;  they  sit  in  close,  hot  rooms,  poisoned  by 
gas  ;  they  get  no  change  of  position  as  the  day  goes  on ;  they 
have  no  holiday,  no  respite,  save  on  Sunday ;  they  draw  misera- 
ble wages,  and  they  are  indiflEerently  fed.  So  that  she  thought 
one  good  thing  Miss  Messenger  could  do  was  to  help  those  girls, 
and  this  was  how  our  association  was  founded." 

"  But  we  shall  thank  you,  all  the  same,"  said  Nelly. 

"  Then  another  thing  happened.  There  was  a  young — gentle- 
man," Angela  went  on,  "  staying  at  the  East  End  too.  He  called 
himself  a  workingman,  said  he  was  the  son  of  a  sergeant  in  the 
army,  but  everybody  knew  he  was  a  gentleman.  This  dress- 
maker made  his  acquaintance,  and  talked  with  him  a  great  deal. 
He  was  full  of  ideas,  and  one  day  he  proposed  that  we  should 
have  a  Palace  of  Delight.  It  would  cost  a  great  deal  of  money ; 
but  they  talked  as  if  they  had  that  sum,  and  more,  at  their  dis- 
posal. They  arranged  it  all :  they  provided'  for  everything. 
When  the  scheme  was  fully  drawn  up,  the  dressmaker  took  it 
to  Miss  Messenger.  Oh,  my  dear  girls !  this  is  the  Palace  of 
Delight.  It  is  built  as  they  proposed ;  it  is  finished ;  it  is  our 
own  ;  and  here  is  its  inventor." 

She  took  Harry's  hand.  He  stood  beside  her,  gazing  upon 
her  impassioned  face  ;  but  he  was  silent.  "  It  looks  cold  and 
empty  now,  but  when  you  see  it  on  the  opening  day ;  when  you 
come  here  night  after  night ;  when  you  get  to  feel  the  place  to 
be  a  part,  and  the  best  part,  of  your  life,  then  remember  that 
what  Miss  Messenger  did  was  nothing  compared  with  what  this 
— this  young  gentleman  did.     For  he  invented  it." 

"  Now,"  she  said,  rising — they  were  all  too  much  astonished 
to  make  any  demonstration — "  now  let  us  examine  the  building. 
This  hall  is  your  great  reception-room.     You  will  use  it  for  the 


388  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

ball  nights,  when  you  give  your  great  dances :  a  thousand  couples 
may  dance  here  without  crowding.  On  wet  days  it  is  to  be  the 
playground  of  the  children.  It  will  hold  a  couple  of  thousand, 
without  jostling  against  each  other.  There  is  the  gallery  for  the 
music,  as  soon  as  you  have  got  any." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  door  on  the  right. 

"  This,"  she  said,  "  is  your  theatre." 

It  was  like  a  Roman  theatre,  being  built  in  the  form  of  a  semi- 
circle, tier  above  tier,  having  no  distinction  in  places,  save  that 
some  were  nearer  the  stage  and  some  farther  off. 

"  Here,"  she  said,  "  you  will  act.  Do  not  think  that  players 
will  be  found  for  you.  If  you  want  a  theatre  you  must  find 
your  own  actors.  If  you  want  an  orchestra  you  must  find  your 
own  for  your  theatre,  because  in  this  place  everything  will  be 
done  by  yourselves." 

They  came  out  of  the  theatre.  There  was  one  other  door  on 
that  side  of  the  hall. 

"This,"  said  Angela,  opening  it,  "is  the  concert-room.  It 
has  an  organ  and  a  piano  and  a  platform.  When  you  have  got 
people  who  can  play  and  sing,  you  will  give  concerts." 

They  crossed  the  hall.  On  the  other  side  were  two  more 
great  rooms,  each  as  big  as  the  theatre  and  the  concert-room. 
One  was  a  gymnasium,  fitted  up  with  bars  and  ropes  and  parallel 
rods  and  trapezes. 

"  This  is  for  the  young  men,"  said  Angela.  "  They  will  be 
stimulated  by  prizes  to  become  good  gymnasts.  The  other  room 
is  the  library.  Here  they  may  come,  when  they  please,  to  read 
and  study." 

It  was  a  noble  room,  fitted  with  shelves  and  the  beginning  of 
a  great  library. 

"  Let  us  go  up-stairs,"  said  Angela. 

Up-stairs  the  rooms  were  all  small,  but  there  were  a  great  many 
of  them. 

Thus  there  were  billiard-rooms,  card-rooms,  rooms  with  chess, 
dominoes,  and  backgammon  tables  laid  out,  smoking-rooms  for 
men  alone,  tea  and  coffee  rooms,  rooms  where  women  could  sit 
by  themselves  if  they  pleased,  and  a  room  where  all  kinds  of 
refreshments  were  to  be  procured.  Above  these  was  a  second 
floor,  which  was  called  the  school.  This  consisted  of  a  great 
number  of  quite  small  rooms,  fitted  with  desks,  tables,  and  what- 


ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF  MEN.  389 

ever  else  miglit  be  necessary.  Some  of  these  rooms  were  called 
music-rooms,  and  were  intended  for  instruction  and  practice  on 
different  instruments.  Others  Were  for  painting,  drawing,  sculp- 
ture, modelling,  wood -carving,  leather-work,  brass -work,  em- 
broidery, lace-work,  and  all  manner  of  small  arts. 

"  In  the  Palace  of  Delight,"  said  Angela,  "  we  shall  not  be 
like  a  troop  of  revellers,  thinking  of  nothing  but  dance  and  song 
and  feasting.  We  shall  learn  something  every  day ;  we  shall  all 
belong  to  some  class.  Those  of  us  who  know  already  will  teach 
the  rest.  And  oh !  the  best  part  of  all  has  to  be  told.  Every- 
thing in  the  palace  will  be  done  for  nothing,  except  the  mere 
cleaning  and  keeping  in  order.  And  if  anybody  is  paid  any- 
thing, it  will  be  at  the  rate  of  a  workingman's  wage — no  more. 
For  this  is  our  own  palace,  the  club  of  the  working-people ;  we 
will  not  let  anybody  make  money  out  of  it.  We  shall  use  it  for 
ourselves,  and  we  shall  make  our  enjoyment  by  ourselves. 

"x\ll  this  is  provided  in  the  deed  of  trust  by  which  Miss 
Messenger  hands  over  the  building  to  the  people.  There  are 
three  trustees.     One  of  these,  of  course,  is  you — Mr.  Goslett." 

"  I  have  been  so  lost  in  amazement,"  said  Harry,  "  that  I  have 
been  unable  to  speak.  Is  this,  in  very  truth,  the  Palace  of  De- 
light that  we  have  battled  over  so  long  and  so  often  ?" 

"  It  is  none  other.  And  you  are  a  trustee  to  carry  out  the 
intentions  of  the  founder — yourself." 

They  went  down-stairs  again  to  the  great  hall. 

"  Captain  Sorensen,"  Angela  whispered,  "  will  you  go  home 
with  the  girls  ?     I  will  follow  in  a  few  minutes." 

Harry  and  Angela  were  left  behind  in  the  hall. 

She  called  the  man  in  charge  of  the  electric  light,  and  said 
something  to  him.  Then  he  went  away  and  turned  down  the 
light,  and  they  were  standing  in  darkness,  save  for  the  bright 
moon  which  shone  through  the  windows  and  fell  upon  the  white 
statues  and  made  them  look  like  two  ghosts  themselves  standing 
among  rows  of  other  ghosts. 

"  Harry,"  said  Angela. 

"  Do  not  mock  me,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  am  in  a  dream.  This  is 
not  real.     The  place — " 

"  It  is  your  own  Palace  of  Delight.  It  will  be  given  to  the 
people  in  a  fortnight.     Are  you  pleased  with  your  creation  ?" 

"Pleased?    And  you?" 


390  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"I  am  greatly  pleased.  Harry" — it  was  the  first  time  she 
bad  called  liim  by  his  Christian  name — "I  promised  you — I 
promised  I  would  tell  you — I  would  tell  you — if  the  time  should 
come — " 

"  Has  the  time  come  ?    Oh,  my  dear  love,  has  the  time  come  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  in  the  way.  But  oh  ! — Harry — are  you  in 
the  same  mind  ?  No — wait  a  moment."  She  held  him  by  the 
wrists.  "Remember  what  you  are  doing.  Will  you  choose  a 
lifetime  of  work  among  working -people  ?  You  can  go  back, 
now,  to  your  old  life  ;  but — perhaps — you  will  not  be  able  to  go 
back,  then." 

"  I  have  chosen,  long  ago.  You  know  my  choice — oh  !  love 
— my  love." 

*'  Then,  Harry,  if  it  will  make  you  happy — are  you  quite  sure 
it  will? — you  shall  marry  me  on  the  day  when  the  palace  is 
opened." 

"  You  are  sure,"  she  said,  presently,  "  that  you  can  love  me, 
though  I  am  only  a  dressmaker  ?" 

"  Could  I  love  you,"  he  replied,  passionately,  "  if  you  were 
anything  else?" 

"  You  have  never  told  me,"  he  said,  presently,  "  your  Chris- 
tian name." 

"  It  is  Angela." 

"  Angela !  I  should  have  known  it  could  have  been  no  other. 
Angela,  kind  Heaven  surely  sent  you  down  to  stay  awhile  with 
me.  If,  in  time  to  come,  you  should  be  ever  unhappy  with  me, 
dear,  if  you  should  not  be  able  to  bear  any  longer  with  my 
faults,  you  would  leave  me  and  go  back  to  the  heaven  whence 
you  came." 

They  parted,  that  night,  on  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Bormalack's 
dingy  old  boarding-house,  to  both  so  dear.  But  Harry,  for 
half  the  night,  paced  the  pavement,  trying  to  calm  the  tumult 
of  his  thoughts.  "  A  life  of  work — Avith  Angela — with  Angela  ?" 
Why,  how  small,  how  pitiful  seemed  all  other  kinds  of  life  in 
which  Angela  was  not  concerned  ! 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  391 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

MY    LADY    SWEET. 

My  story,  alas !  has  come  to  an  end,  according  to  the  nature 
of  all  earthly  things.  The  love  vows  are  exchanged,  the  girl  has 
given  herself  to  the  man — rich  or  poor.  My  friends,  if  you 
come  to  think  of  it,  no  girl  is  so  rich  that  she  can  give  more,  or 
so  poor  that  she  can  give  less,  than  herself ;  and  in  love  one  asks 
not  for  more  or  less.  Even  the  day  is  appointed,  and  nothing 
is  going  to  happen  which  will  prevent  the  blessed  wedding-bells 
from  ringing,  or  the  clergyman  from  the  sacred  joining  together 
of  man  and  of  maid,  till  death  do  part  them.  What  more  to 
tell  ?  We  ought  to  drop  the  curtain  while  the  moonlight  pours 
through  the  windows  of  the  silent  palace  upon  the  lovers,  while 
the  gods  and  goddesses,  nymphs,  naiads,  and  oreads  in  marble 
look  on  in  sympathetic  joy.  They,  too,  in  the  far-off  ages, 
among  the  woods  and  springs  of  Hellas,  lived  and  loved,  though 
their  forests  know  them  no  more.  Yet,  because  this  was  no 
ordinary  marriage,  and  because  we  are  sorry  to  part  with  Angela 
before  the  day  when  she  begins  her  wedded  life,  we  must  fain 
tell  of  what  passed  in  that  brief  fortnight  before  the  palace  was 
opened,  and  Angela's  great  and  noble  dream  became  a  reality. 

There  was,  first  of  all,  a  great  deal  of  business  to  be  set  in 
order.  Angela  had  interviews  with  her  lawyers,  and  settlements 
had  to  be  drawn  up  about  which  Harry  knew  nothing,  though 
he  would  have  to  sign  them ;  then  there  were  the  trust  deeds  for 
the  palace.  Angela  named  Harry,  Dick  Coppin,  the  old  chartist, 
now  her  firm  and  fast  friend,  and  Lord  Jocelyn,  as  joint  trustees. 
They  were  to  see,  first  of  all,  that  no  one  got  anything  out  of 
the  palace  unless  it  might  be  workmen's  wages  for  work  done. 
They  were  to  carry  out  the  spirit  of  the  house  in  making  the 
place  support  and  feed  itself,  so  that  whatever  amusements,  plays, 
dances,  interludes,  or  mummeries  were  set  afoot,  all  might  be  by 
the  people  themselves  for  themselves  ;  and  they  were  to  do  their 
2C 


392  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

utmost  to  keep  out  the  discordant  elements  of  politics,  religion, 
and  party  controversy. 

All  the  girls  knew  by  this  time  that  Miss  Kennedy  was  to  be 
married  on  the  second  of  March — the  day  when  the  palace  was 
to  be  opened.  They  also  learned,  because  the  details  were  ar- 
ranged and  talked  over  every  evening,  that  the  opening  would  be 
on  a  very  grand  scale  indeed.  Miss  Messenger  herself  was  com- 
ing to  hand  it  over  in  person  to  the  trustees  on  behalf  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Stepney  and  Whitechapel.  There  was  to  be  the  acting  of 
a  play  in  the  new  theatre,  a  recital  on  the  new  organ,  the  perform- 
ance of  a  concert  in  the  new  concert-room,  playing  all  the  even- 
ing long  by  a  military  band,  some  sort  of  general  entertainment ; 
and  the  whole  was  to  be  terminated  by  a  gigantic  supper  given 
by  Miss  Messenger  herself,  to  which  fifteen  hundred  guests  were 
bidden — namely,  first,  all  the  employees  of  the  Brewery  with  their 
wives,  if  they  had  any,  from  the  chief  brewer  and  the  chief  ac- 
countant down  to  the  humblest  boy  on  the  establishment ;  and 
secondly,  all  the  girls  in  the  association,  with  two  or  three  guests 
for  each ;  and  thirdly,  a  couple  of  hundred  or  so  chosen  from  a 
list  drawn  up  by  Dick  Coppin  and  the  cobbler  and  Harry. 

As  for  Harry,  he  had  now,  by  Angela's  recommendation,  re- 
signed his  duties  at  the  Brewery,  in  order  to  throw  his  whole 
time  into  the  arrangement  for  the  opening  day  ;  and  this  so 
greatly  occupied  him  fhat  he  sometimes  even  forgot  what  the 
day  would  mean  to  him.  The  invitations  were  sent  in  Miss 
Messenger's  own  name.  They  were  all  accepted,  although  there 
was  naturally  some  little  feeling  of  irritation  at  the  Brewery 
when  it  became  known  that  there  was  to  be  a  general  sitting 
down  of  all  together.  Miss  Messenger  also  expressed  her  wish 
that  the  only  beverage  at  the  supper  should  be  Messenger's  beer, 
and  that  of  the  best  quality.  The  banquet,  in  imitation  of  the 
lord  mayor's  dinner  on  the  ninth  of  November,  was  to  be  a  cold 
one,  and  solid,  with  plenty  of  ices,  jellies,  puddings,  and  fruit. 
But  there  was  something  said  about  glasses  of  wine  for  every 
guest  after  supper. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Angela,  talking  over  this  pleasant  disposition 
of  things  with  Harry,  "  that  she  means  one  or  two  toasts  to  be 
proposed.  The  first  should  be  to  the  success  of  the  palace. 
The  second,  I  think  " — and  she  blushed — "  will  be  the  health  of 
you,  Harry,  and  of  me." 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  393 

"I  think  so  much  of  you,"  said  Harry,  "all  day  long,  that  I. 
never  think  of  Miss  Messenger  at  all.  Tell  me  what  she  is  like, 
this  giver  and  dispenser  of  princely  gifts.  I  suppose  she  really 
is  the  owner  of  boundless  wealth  ?" 

"  She  has  several  millions,  if  you  call  that  boundless.  She  has 
been  a  very  good  friend  to  me,  and  will  continue  so." 

''  You  know  her  well  ?" 

"  I  know  her  very  well.  Oh,  Harry,  do  not  ask  me  any  more  about 
her  or  myself.  When  we  are  married  I  will  tell  you  all  about  the 
friendship  of  Miss  Messenger  to  me.     You  trust  me,  do  you  not?" 

"  Trust  you  !     Oh,  Angela  !" 

"  My  secret,  such  as  it  is,  is  not  a  shameful  one,  Harry  ;  and  it 
has  to  do  with  the  very  girl,  this  Miss  Messenger.  Leave  me 
with  it  till  the  day  of  our  wedding.  I  wonder  how  far  your 
patience  will  endure  my  secrets  ?  for  here  is  another.  You  know 
that  I  have  a  little  money  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  Angela,"  said  Harry,  laughing,  "  that  you 
must  have  made  a  terrible  hole  in  it  since  you  came  here.  Lit- 
tle or  much,  what  does  it  matter  to  us  ?  Haven't  we  got  the  two 
thousand  ?     Think  of  that  tremendous  lump." 

"  "What  can  it  matter  ?"  she  cried.  "  Oh,  Harry,  I  thank 
Heaven  for  letting  me,  too,  have  this  great  gift  of  sweet  and  dis- 
interested love.     I  thought  it  would  never  come  to  me." 

'*  To  whom,  then,  should  it  come  ?" 

"  Don't,  Harry,  or — yes — go  on  thinking  me  all  that  you  say, 
because  it  may  help  to  make  me  all  that  you  think.  But  that  is 
not  what  I  wanted  to  say.  Would  you  mind  very  much,  Harry, 
if  I  asked  you  to  take  my  name  ?" 

"  I  will  take  any  name  you  wish,  Angela.  If  I  am  your  hus- 
band, what  does  it  matter  about  any  other  name  ?" 

"  And  then  one  other  thing,  Harry.  Will  your  guardian  give 
his  consent  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  can  answer  for  him  that  he  will.  And  he  will  come 
to  the  wedding  if  I  ask  him." 

"  Then  ask  him,  Harry." 

"  So,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  "  the  dressmaker  has  relented,  has 
she  ?     Why,  that  is  well.     And  I  am  to  give  my  consent  ?     My 
dear  boy,  1  only  want  you  to  be  happy.     Besides,  1  am  quite 
sure  and  certain  that  you  will  be  happy." 
17* 


394  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

"  Everybody  is,  if  he  marries  the  woman  he  loves,"  said  the 
young  man,  sententiously. 

"  Yes — yes,  if  he  goes  on  loving  the  woman  he  has  married. 
However,  Harry,  you  have  my  best  wishes  and  consent,  since  you 
are  good  enough  to  ask  for  it.  Wait  a  bit."  He  got  up  and 
began  to  search  about  in  drawers  and  desks.  "  I  must  give  your 
fiancee  a  present,  Harry.  See — here  is  something  good.  "Will 
you  give  her,  with  my  best  love  and  good  wishes,  this  ?  It  was 
once  my  mother's." 

Harry  looked  at  the  gaud,  set  with  pearls  and  rubies  in  old- 
fashioned  style. 

"  Is  it  not,"  he  asked,  "  rather  too  splendid  for  a — poor  peo- 
ple in  our  position  ?" 

Lord  Jocelyn  laughed  aloud. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said,  "can  be  too  splendid  for  a  beautiful  wom- 
an. Give  it  her,  Harry,  and  tell  her  I  am  glad  she  has  consented 
to  make  you  happy.  Tell  her  I  am  more  than  glad,  Harry.  Say 
that  I  most  heartily  thank  her.  Yes,  thank  her.  Tell  her  that. 
Say  that  I  thank  her  from  my  heart." 

As  the  day  drew  near  the  girls  became  possessed  of  a  great 
fear.  It  seemed  to  all  as  if  things  were  going  to  undergo  some 
great  and  sudden  change.  They  knew  that  the  house  was  se- 
cured to  them  free  of  rent;  but  they  were  going  to  lose  their 
queen,  that  presiding  spirit  who  not  only  kept  them  together, 
but  also  kept  them  happy.  In  her  presence  there  were  no  little 
tempers,  and  jealousies  were  forgotten.  When  she  was  with 
them  they  were  all  on  their  best  behavior.  Now  it  is  an  odd 
thing  in  girls,  and  I  really  think  myself  privileged,  considering 
my  own  very  small  experience  of  the  sex,  in  being  the  first  to 
have  discovered  this  important  truth  —  that,  whereas  to  boys 
good  behavior  is  too  often  a  gene  and  a  bore,  girls  prefer  behav- 
ing well.  They  are  happiest  when  they  are  good,  nicely  dressed, 
and  sitting  all  in  a  row  with  company  manners.  But  who,  when 
Miss  Kennedy  went  away,  would  lead  them  in  the  drawing- 
room?  The  change,  however,  was  going  to  be  greater  than 
they  knew  or  guessed ;  the  drawing-room  itself  would  become 
before  many  days  a  thing  of  the  past,  but  the  palace  would  take 
its  place. 

They  all  brought  gifts;  they  were  simple  things,  but  they 
were  offered  with  willing  and  grateful  hearts.     Rebekah  brought 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  395 

the  one  volume  of  her  father's  library  which  was  well  bound. 
It  was  a  work  written  in  imitation  of  llervey's  "  Meditations," 
and  dealt  principally  with  tombs,  and  was  therefore  peculiarly 
appropriate  as  a  wedding  present.  Nelly  brought  a  ring  which 
had  been  her  mother's,  and  was  so  sacred  to  her  that  she  felt  it 
must  be  given  to  Miss  Kennedy ;  the  other  girls  gave  worked 
handkerchiefs,  and  collars,  and  such  little  things. 

Angela  looked  at  the  table  on  which  she  had  spread  all  her 
w  edding  presents :  the  plated  tea-pot  from  Mrs.  Bormalack  ;  the 
girls'  work ;  Nelly's  ring ;  Rebekah's  book ;  Lord  Jocelyn's  brace- 
let. She  was  happier  with  these  trifles  than  if  she  had  received 
in  Portman  Square  the  hundreds  of  gifts  and  jewelled  things 
which  would  have  poured  in  for  the  young  heiress. 

And  in  the  short  fortnight  she  thought  for  everybody.  Jo- 
sephus  received  a  message  that  he  might  immediately  retire  on 
the  pension  which  he  would  have  received  had  he  been  fortunate 
in  promotion,  and  been  compelled  to  go  by  ill-health :  in  other 
words,  he  was  set  free  with  three  hundred  pounds  a  year  for 
life.  He  may  now  be  seen  any  day  in  the  Mile  End  Road  or 
on  Stepney  Green,  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  a  young  man  of 
twenty-one  or  so,  walking  with  elastic  step,  because  he  is  so 
young,  yet  manifesting  a  certain  gravity,  as  becomes  one  who 
attends  the  evening  lectures  of  the  Beaumont  Institute  in  French 
and  arithmetic,  and  takes  a  class  on  the  Sabbath  in  connection 
with  the  Wesleyan  body.  After  all,  a  man  is  only  as  old  as  he 
feels ;  and  why  should  not  Josephus,  whose  youth  was  cruelly 
destroyed,  feel  young  again,  now  that  his  honor  has  been  re- 
stored to  him  ? 

On  the  morning  before  the  wedding,  Angela  paid  two  visits 
of  considerable  importance. 

The  first  was  to  Daniel  Fagg,  to  whom  she  carried  a  small 
parcel.  "  My  friend,"  she  said,  "  I  have  observed  your  impa- 
tience about  your  book.  Your  publisher  thought  that,  as  you 
are  inexperienced  in  correcting  proofs,  it  would  be  best  to  have 
the  work  done  for  you.  And  here,  I  am  truly  happy  to  say,  is 
the  book  itself." 

He  tore  the  covering  from  the  book,  and  seized  it  as  a  mother 
would  seize  her  child. 

"  My  book  !"  he  gasped,  "  my  book  !" 

Yes,  his  book ;  bound  in  sober  cloth,  with  an  equilateral  tri- 


396  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

angle  on  the  cover  for  simple  ornament.  "The  Primitive  Al- 
phabet, by  Daniel  Fagg  ?"     "  My  book  !" 

Angela  explained  to  him  that  his  passage  to  Melbourne  was 
taken,  and  that  he  would  sail  in  a  week ;  and  that  a  small  sum 
of  money  would  be  put  into  his  hands  on  landing :  and  that  a 
hundred  copies  of  the  book  would  be  sent  to  Australia  for  him, 
with  more  if  he  wanted  them.  But  she  talked  to  idle  ears,  for 
Daniel  was  turning  over  the  leaves  and  devouring  the  contents 
of  his  book. 

"  At  all  events,"  said  Angela,  "  I  have  made  one  man  happy." 

Then  she  walked  to  the  Trinity  Almshouse,  and  sought  her 
old  friend,  Captain  Sorensen. 

To  him  she  told  her  whole  story  from  the  very  beginning, 
begging  only  that  he  would  keep  her  secret  till  the  next  evening. 

"  But,  of  course,"  said  the  sailor,  "  I  knew,  all  along,  that  you 
were  a  lady  born  and  bred.  You  might  deceive  the  folk  here, 
who've  no  chance,  poor  things,  of  knowing  a  lady  when  they  see 
one — how  should  they  ?  But  you  could  not  deceive  a  man  who's 
had  his  quarter-deck  full  of  ladies.  The  only  question  in  my 
mind  was  why  you  did  it." 

"You  did  not  think  that  what  Bunker  said  was  true — did 
yo«,  Captain  Sorensen  ?" 

"  Nay,"  he  replied.  "  Bunker  never  liked  you  ;  and  how  I 
am  to  thank  you  enough  for  all  you've  done  for  my  poor  girl — " 

"  Thank  me  by  continuing  to  be  my  dear  friend  and  adviser," 
said  Angela.  "If  I  thought  it  would  pleasure  you  to  live  out 
of  this  place — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  captain, "  I  could  not  take  your  money ; 
any  one  may  accept  the  provision  of  the  asylum  and  be  grateful." 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  so.  Stay  on,  then.  Captain  Sorensen. 
And  as  regards  Nelly,  my  dear  and  fond  Nelly — " 

It  needs  not  to  tell  what  she  said  and  promised  on  behalf  of 
Nelly. 

And  at  the  house  the  girls  were  trying  on  the  new  white 
frocks  and  white  bonnets  in  which  they  were  to  go  to  the  wed- 
ding. They  were  all  bridesmaids,  but  Nelly  had  the  post  of 
honor. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  397 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

"UPROUSE    YE    THEN,  MY    MERRY,  MERRY    MEN." 

At  nine  in  the  morning  Harry  presented  himself  at  the  house, 
no  longer  his  own,  for  the  signing  of  certain  papers.  The  place 
was  closed  for  a  holiday,  but  the  girls  were  already  assembling 
in  the  showroom,  getting  their  dresses  laid  out,  trying  on  their 
gloves,  and  chattering  like  birds  up  in  the  branches  on  a  fine 
spring  morning.  He  found  Angela  sitting  with  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman— none  other  than  the  senior  partner  in  the  firm  of  her 
solicitors.  He  had  a  quantity  of  documents  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  as  Harry  opened  the  door  he  heard  these  remarkable 
words : 

"  So  the  young  man  does  not  know — even  at  the  eleventh 
hour?" 

What  it  was  he  would  learn,  Harry  cared  not  to  inquire.  Ho 
had  been  told  that  there  was  a  secret  of  some  sort  which  he 
would  learn  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

'*  These  papers,  Harry,"  said  his  bride,  "  are  certain  documents 
which  you  have  to  sign,  connected  with  that  little  fortune  of 
which  I  told  you." 

"  I  hope,"  said  Harry,  "  that  the  fortune,  whatever  it  is,  has 
all  been  settled  upon  yourself  absolutely." 

"  You  will  find,  young  gentleman,"  said  the  solicitor,  gravely, 
"that  ample  justice  —  generous  justice  —  has  been  done  you. 
Very  well,  I  will  say  no  more." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  sign  without  reading,  Angela  V 

"  If  you  will  so  far  trust  me." 

He  took  the  pen  and  signed  where  he  was  told  to  sign,  with- 
out reading  one  word.  If  he  had  been  ordered  to  sign  away 
his  life  and  liberty,  he  would  have  done  so  blindly  and  cheer- 
fully at  Angela's  bidding.  The  deed  was  signed,  and  the  act 
of  signature  was  witnessed. 

So  that  was  done.     There  now  remained  only  the  ceremony. 


a98  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

While  the  solicitor,  who  evidently  disliked  the  whole  proceed- 
ing, as  irregular  and  dangerous,  was  putting  up  the  papers,  An- 
gela took  her  lover's  hands  in  hers,  and  looked  into  his  face 
with  her  frank  and  searching  look. 

"  You  do  not  repent,  my  poor  Harry  ?"• 

"  Repent  ?" 

"  You  might  have  done  so  much  better :  you  might  have  mar- 
ried a  lady — " 

The  solicitor,  overhearing  these  words,  sat  down  and  rubbed 
his  nose  with  an  unprofessional  smile. 

"  Shall  I  not  marry  a  lady  ?" 

"  You  might  have  found  a  rich  bride :  you  might  have  led  a 
lazy  life,  with  nothing  to  do,  instead  of  which — oh,  Harry,  there 
is  still  time!  We  are  not  due  at  the  church  for  half  an  hour 
yet.  Think.  Do  you  deliberately  choose  a  life  of  work  and 
ambition — with — perhaps — poverty  ?" 

At  this  point  the  solicitor  rose  from  his  chair  and  walked 
softly  to  the  window,  where  he  remained  for  five  minutes  look- 
ing out  upon  Stepney  Green  with  his  back  to  the  lovers.  If 
Harry  had  been  watching  him,  he  would  have  remarked  a  curi- 
ous tremulous  movement  of  the  shoulders. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more,  Harry,  that  I  have  to  ask  you." 

"  Of  course,  you  have  only  to  ask  me,  whatever  it  is.  Could 
I  refuse  you  anything,  who  will  give  me  so  much  ?" 

Their  fingers  were  interlaced,  their  eyes  were  looking  into 
each  other.     No  ;  he  could  refuse  her  nothing. 

"  I  give  you  much  ?  Oh,  Harry ! — what  is  a  woman's  gift  of 
herself?" 

Harry  restrained  himself.  The  solicitor  might  be  sympa- 
thetic ;  but,  on  the  whole,  it  was  best  to  act  as  if  he  were  not. 
Law  has  little  to  do  with  love ;  Cupid  has  never  yet  been  repre- 
sented with  the  long  gown. 

"  It  is  a  strange  request,  Harry.  It  is  connected  with  my — 
my  little  foolish  secret.  You  will  let  me  go  away  directly  the 
service  is  over,  and  you  will  consent  not  to  see  me  again  until 
the  evening,  when  I  shall  return.  You,  with  all  the  girls,  will 
rncet  me  in  the  porch  of  the  palace  at  seven  o'clock  exactly. 
And,  as  Miss  Messenger  will  come  too,  you  will  make  your — 
perhaps  your  last  appearance — my  poor  boy — in  the  character 
of  a  modern  English  gentleman  in  evening-dress.     Tell  your 


''  '/>(/  you  deliberately  choose  a  life  of  itork  and  ambition — irith — perhaps- 

poverty  ?' " 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  399 

best  man  that  he  is  to  give  his  arm  to  Nelly :  the  other  girls 
will  follow  two  and  two.  Oh,  Harry,  the  first  sound  of  the  or- 
gan in  your  palace  will  be  your  own  wedding-march :  the  first 
festival  in  your  palace  will  be  in  your  own  honor.  Is  not  that 
what  it  should  be  ?" 

"  In  your  honor,  dear,  not  mine.  And  Miss  Messenger  ?  Are 
we  to  give  no  honor  to  her  who  built  the  palace  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes — yes — yes  !"  She  put  the  question  by  with,  a  care- 
less gesture.  "  But  any  one  who  happened  to  have  the  money 
could  do  such  a  simple  thing.  The  honor  is  yours  because  you 
invented  it." 

"  From  your  hands,  Angela,  I  will  take  all  the  honor  that  you 
please  to  give.     So  am  I  doubly  honored." 

There  were  no  wedding-bells  at  all :  the  organ  was  mute  :  the 
parish  church  of  Stepney  was  empty  :  the  spectators  of  the  mar- 
riage were  Mrs.  Bormalack  and  Captain  Sorensen,  besides  the 
girls  and  the  bridegroom,  and  Dick,  his  best  man.  The  captain 
in  the  Salvation  Army  might  have  been  present  as  well ;  he  had 
been  asked,  but  he  was  lying  on  the  sick-bed  from  which  he  was 
never  to  rise  again.  Lord  and  Lady  Davenant  were  there :  the 
former  sleek,  well-contented,  well-dressed  in  broadcloth  of  the 
best ;  the  latter  agitated,  restless,  humiliated,  because  she  had 
lost  the  thing  she  came  across  the  Atlantic  to  claim,  and  was 
going  home,  after  the  splendor  of  the  last  three  months,  to  the 
monotonous  levels  of  Canaan  City.  Who  could  love  Canaan  City 
after  the  West  End  of  London  ?  What  woman  would  look  for- 
ward with  pleasure  to  the  dull  and  uneventful  days,  the  local 
politics,  the  chapel  squabbles,  the  little  gatherings  for  tea  and 
supper,  after  the  enjoyment  of  a  carriage  and  pair  and  unlim- 
ited theatres,  operas,  and  concerts,  and  footmen,  and  such  din- 
ners as  the  average  American,  or  the  average  Englishman  either, 
seldom  arrives  at  seeing,  even  in  visions?  Sweet  content  was 
gone :  and  though  Angela  meant  well,  and  it  was  kind  of  her 
to  afford  the  ambitious  lady  a  glimpse  of  that  great  world  into 
which  she  desired  to  enter,  the  sight — even  this  Pisgah  glimpse — 
of  a  social  paradise  to  which  she  could  never  belong  destroyed 
her  peace  of  mind,  and  she  will  for  the  rest  of  her  life  lie  on  a 
rock  deploring.  Xot  so  her  husband :  his  future  is  assured  :  he 
can  eat  and  drink  plentifully ;  he  can  sleep  all  the  morning  un- 


400  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

disturbed;  he  is  relieved  of  the  anxieties  connected  with  his 
case ;  and,  though  the  respect  due  to  rank  is  not  recognized  in 
the  States,  he  has  to  bear  none  of  its  responsibilities,  and  has 
altogether  abandoned  the  grand  manner.  At  the  same  time,  as 
one  who  very  nearly  became  a  British  peer,  his  position  in  Ca- 
naan City  is  enormously  raised. 

They,  then,  were  in  the  church.  They  drove  thither,  not  in 
Miss  Messenger's  carriage,  but  with  Lord  Jocelyn. 

They  arrived  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  ceremony.  When 
the  curate  who  was  to  perform  the  ceremony  arrived.  Lord  Joce- 
lyn sought  him  in  the  vestry  and  showed  him  a  special  license 
by  which  it  was  pronounced  lawful,  and  even  laudable,  for  Harry 
Goslett,  bachelor,  to  take  unto  wife  Angela  Marsden  Messenger, 
spinster. 

And  at  the  sight  of  that  name  did  the  curate's  knees  begin 
to  tremble,  and  his  hands  to  shake. 

"  Angela  Marsden  Messenger  ?  Is  it,  then,"  he  asked,  "  the 
great  heiress  ?" 

"  It  is  none  other,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn.  "  And  she  marries 
my  ward — here  is  my  card — by  special  license." 

"  But — but — is  it  a  clandestine  marriage  ?" 

*'  Not  at  all.  There  are  reasons  why  Miss  Messenger  desires 
to  be  married  in  Stepney.  With  them  we  have  nothing  to  do. 
She  has,  of  late,  associated  herself  with  many  works  of  benevo- 
lence, but  anonymously.  In  fact,  my  dear  sir" — here  Lord 
Jocelyn  looked  profoundly  knowing — "my  ward,  the  bride- 
groom, has  always  known  her  under  another  name,  and  even 
now  does  not  know  whom  he  is  marrying.  When  we  sign  the 
books,  we  must,  just  to  keep  the  secret  a  little  longer,  manage 
that  he  shall  write  his  own  name  without  seeing  the  name  of 
the  bride." 

This  seemed  very  irregular  in  the  eyes  of  the  curate,  and  at 
first  he  was  for  referring  the  matter  to  the  rector,  but  finally 
gave  in,  on  the  understanding  that  he  was  to  be  no  party  to  any 
concealment. 

And  presently  the  wedding-party  walked  slowly  up  the  aisle, 
and  Harry,  to  his  great  astonishment,  saw  his  bride  on  Lord 
Jocelyn's  arm.  There  were  cousins  of  the  Messengers  in  plenty 
who  should  have  done  this  duty,  but  Angela  would  invite  none 
of  them.     She  came  alone  to  Stepney  ;  she  lived  and  worked  in 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN,  401 

the  place  alone ;  she  wanted  no  consultation  or  discussion  with 
the  cousins ;  she  would  tell  them  when  all  was  done ;  and  she 
knew  very  well  that  so  great  an  heiress  as  herself  could  do  noth- 
ing but  what  is  right,  when  one  has  time  to  recover  from  the 
shock,  and  to  settle  down  and  think  things  over. 

No  doubt,  though  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  outside 
world  in  this  story,  there  was  a  tremendous  rustling  of  skirts, 
shaking  of  heads,  tossing  of  curls,  wagging  of  tongues,  and  up- 
lifting of  hands  the  next  morning  when  Angela's  cards  were 
received,  and  the  news  was  in  all  the  papers.  And  there  was 
such  a  run  upon  interjections  that  the  vocabulary  broke  down, 
and  people  were  fain  to  cry  to  one  another  in  foreign  tongues. 

For  thus  the  announcement  ran  : 

"  On  Thursday,  March  20,  at  the  parish  church.  Stepney,  Har- 
ry, son  of  the  late  Samuel  Goslett,  sergeant  in  the  120th  regi- 
ment of  the  line,  to  Angela  Marsden,  daughter  of  the  late  John 
Marsden  Messenger,  and  granddaughter  of  the  late  John  Mes- 
senger, of  Portman  Square  and  Whitechapel." 

This  was  a  pretty  blow  among  the  cousins.  The  greatest 
heiress  in  England,  whom  they  had  hoped  would  marry  a  duke, 
or  a  marquis,  or  an  earl  at  least,  had  positively  and  actually 
married  the  son  of  a  common  soldier — well,  a  non-commissioned 
officer — the  same  thing.'  What  did  it  mean?  What  could  it 
mean  ? 

Others,  who  knew  Harry  and  his  story,  who  had  sympathy 
with  him  on  account  of  his  many  good  qualities — who  owned 
that  the  obscurity  of  his  birth  was  but  an  accident  shared  with 
him  by  many  of  the  most  worthy,  excellent,  brilliant,  useful, 
well-bred,  delightful  men  of  the  world — rejoiced  over  the  strange 
irony  of  Fate  which  had  first  lifted  this  soldier's  son  out  of  the 
gutter,  and  then,  with  apparent  malignity,  dropped  him  back 
again,  only,  however,  to  raise  him  once  more  far  higher  than 
before.  For,  indeed,  the  young  man  was  now  rich — with  his 
vats  and  his  mashtubs,  his  millions  of  casks,  his  Old  and  his 
Mild  and  his  Bitter,  and  his  Family  at  nine  shillings  the  nine- 
gallon  cask,  and  his  accumulated  millions,  "  beyond  the  potential 
dream  of  avarice."  If  he  chooses  to  live  more  than  half  his 
time  in  W^hitechapel,  that  is  no  concern  of  anybody's ;  and  if 
his  wife  chooses  to  hold  a  sort  of  court  at  the  abandoned  East, 
to  surround  herself  with  people  unheard  of  in  society,  not  to 


402  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

say  out  of  it,  why  should  she  not  ?  Any  of  the  royal  princes 
might  have  done  the  same  thing  if  they  had  chosen  and  had 
been  well-advised.  Further,  if,  between  them,  Angela  and  her 
husband  have  established  a  superior  aquarium,  a  glorified  crys- 
tal palace,  in  which  all  the  shows  are  open,  all  the  performers 
are  drilled  and  trained  amateurs,  and  all  the  work  actually  is 
done  for  nothing;  in  which  the  management  is  by  the  people 
themselves,  who  will  have  no  interference  from  priest  or  parson, 
rector  or  curate,  philanthropist  or  agitator;  and  no  patronage 
from  societies,  well-intentioned  young  ladies,  meddling  benevo- 
lent persons  and  officious  promoters,  starters,  and  shovers-along, 
with  half  an  eye  fixed  on  heaven  and  the  remaining  eye  and  a 
half  on  their  own  advancement — if,  in  fact,  they  choose  to  do 
these  things,  why  not  ?  It  is  an  excellent  way  of  spending  their 
time,  and  a  change  from  the  monotony  of  society. 

Again,  it  is  said  that  Harry,  now  Harry  Messenger,  by  the 
provision  of  old  John  Messenger's  will,  is  the  president,  or  the 
chairman,  or  the  honorary  secretary,  in  fact  the  spring  and  stay 
and  prop  of  a  new  and  most  formidable  union  or  association, 
which  threatens,  unless  it  be  nipped  in  the  bud,  very  consider- 
able things  of  the  greatest  importance  to  the  country.  It  is,  in 
fact,  a  league  of  workingmen  for  the  promotion  and  advance- 
ment of  their  own  interests.  Its  prospectus  sets  forth  that,  hav- 
ing looked  in  vain  among  the  candidates  for  the  House  of  Com- 
mons for  any  representative  who  had  been  in  the  past,  or  was 
likely  to  be  in  the  future,  of  the  slightest  use  to  them  in  the 
House ;  having  found  that  neither  Conservatives,  nor  Liberals, 
nor  Radicals  have  ever  been,  or  are  ever  likely  to  be,  prepared 
with  any  real  measure  which  should  in  the  least  concern  them- 
selves and  their  own  wants ;  and  fully  recognizing  the  fact  that 
in  the  debates  of  the  House  the  interests  of  labor  and  the  duties 
of  government  towards  the  laboring-classes  are  never  recognized 
or  understood  —  the  workingmen  of  the  country  hereby  form 
themselves  into  a  general  league  or  union,  which  shall  have  no 
other  object  whatever  than  the  study  of  their  own  rights  and 
interests.  The  question  of  wages  will  be  left  to  the  different 
unions,  except  in  such  cases  where  there  is  no  union,  or  where 
the  men  are  inarticulate  (as  in  the  leading  case,  now  some  ten 
years  old,  of  the  gas-stokers),  through  ignorance  and  drink.  And 
the   immediate    questions  before  the  union  will  be,  first,  the 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  403 

dwelling -houses  of  the  workingmen,  which  are  to  be  made 
clean,  safe,  and  healthy ;  next,  their  food  and  drink,  which  are 
to  be  unadulterated,  pure,  and  genuine,  and  are  to  pass  through 
no  more  hands  than  is  necessary,  and  to  be  distributed  fit  the 
actual  cost  price  without  the  intervention  of  small  shops ;  next, 
instruction,  for  which  purpose  the  workingmen  will  elect  their 
own  school  boards,  and  burn  all  the  foolish  reading-books  at  pres- 
ent in  use,  and  abolish  spelling  as  a  part  of  education,  and  teach 
the  things  necessary  for  all  trades :  next,  clothing,  which  will 
be  made  for  them  by  their  own  men  working  for  themselves, 
without  troubling  the  employers  of  labor  at  all :  next,  a  news- 
paper of  their  own,  which  will  refuse  any  place  to  political 
agitators,  leaders,  partisans,  and  professional  talkers,  and  be  de- 
voted to  the  questions  which  really  concern  workingmen,  and 
especially  the  question  of  how  best  to  employ  the  power  which 
is  in  their  hands,  and  report  continually  what  is  doing,  what 
must  be  done,  and  how  it  must  be  done.  And  lastly,  emigra- 
tion, so  that  in  every  family  it  shall  be  considered  necessary  for 
some  to  go,  and  the  whole  country  shall  be  mapped  out  into 
districts,  and  only  a  certain  number  be  allowed  to  remain. 

Now,  the  world  being  so  small  as  it  is,  and  Englishmen  and 
Scotchmen  being  so  masterful  that  they  must  needs  go  straight 
to  the  front  and  stay  there,  it  cannot  but  happen  that  the  world 
will  presently — that  is,  in  two  generations,  or  three  at  the  most — 
be  overrun  with  the  good  old  English  blood  :  whereupon  till  the 
round  earth  gets  too  small,  which  will  not  happen  for  another 
ten  thousand  years  or  so,  there  will  be  the  purest,  most  delight- 
ful, and  most  heavenly  Millennium.  Rich  people  may  come  into 
it  if  they  please,  but  they  will  not  be  wanted :  in  fact,  rich  peo- 
ple will  die  out,  and  it  will  soon  come  to  be  considered  an  un- 
happy thing,  as  it  undoubtedly  is,  to  be  born  rich. 

— "  Whose  daughters  ye  are,"  concluded  the  curate,  closing 
his  book,  "  as  long  as  ye  do  well,  and  are  not  afraid  with  any 
amazement." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  vestry,  where  the  book  lay  open,  and 
sitting  at  the  table  he  made  the  proper  entries. 

Then  Harry  took  his  place  and  signed.  Now,  behold  !  as  he 
took  the  pen  in  his  hand.  Lord  Jocelyn  artfully  held  blotting- 
paper  in  readiness,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bide  the  name  of 


J,04  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

the  bride ;  then  Angela  signed ;  then  the  witnesses,  Lord  Joce- 
lyn  and  Captain  Sorensen.  And  then  there  were  shaking  of 
hands  and  kissings.  And  before  they  came  away  the  curate  ven- 
tured timidly  to  whisper  congratulations,  and  that  he  had  no  idea 
of  the  honor —  And  then  Angela  stopped  him,  and  bade  him 
to  her  wedding-feast  that  evening  at  the  new  Palace  of  Delight. 

Then  Lord  Jocelyn  distributed  largess,  the  largest  kind  of 
largess,  among  the  people  of  the  church. 

But  it  surely  was  the  strangest  of  weddings.  For  when  they 
reached  the  church-door  the  bride  and  bridegroom  kissed  each 
other,  and  then  he  placed  her  in  the  carriage,  in  which  the  Dave- 
nants  and  Lord  Jocelyn  also  seated  themselves,  and  so  they 
drove  oflE. 

"  We  shall  see  her  again  to-night,"  said  Harry.  "  Come, 
Dick,  we  have  got  a  long  day  to  get  through — seven  hours.  Let 
us  go  for  a  walk.  I  can't  sit  down :  I  can't  rest ;  I  can't  do 
anything.     Let  us  go  for  a  walk,  and  wrangle." 

They  left  the  girls  and  strode  away,  and  did  not  return  until 
it  was  past  six  o'clock,  and  already  growing  dark. 

The  girls,  in  dreadful  lowness  of  spirits,  and  feeling  as  flat  as 
BO  many  pancakes,  returned  to  their  house  and  sat  down  with 
their  hands  in  their  laps,  to  do  nothing  for  seven  hours.  Did 
one  ever  hear  that  the  maidens  at  a  marriage — do  the  customs 
of  any  country  present  an  example  of  such  a  thing — returned  to 
the  bride's  house  without  either  bride  or  bridegroom  ?  Did  one 
ever  hear  of  a  marriage  where  the  groom  left  the  bride  at  the 
church-door,  and  went  away  for  a  six  hours'  walk  ? 

As  for  Captain  Sorensen,  he  went  to  the  palace  and  pottered 
about,  getting  snubbed  by  the  persons  in  authority.  There  was 
still  much  to  be  done  before  the  evening,  but  there  was  time : 
all  would  be  done.  Presently  he  went  away ;  but  he,  too,  was 
restless  and  agitated ;  he  could  not  rest  at  home  ;  the  possession 
of  the  secret,  the  thought  of  his  daughter's  future,  the  strange 
and  unlooked-for  happiness  that  had  come  to  him  in  his  old  age 
— these  things  agitated  him ;  nor  could  even  his  fiddle  bring 
him  any  consolation ;  and  the  peacefulness  of  the  almshouse, 
which  generally  soothed  him,  this  day  irritated  him.  Therefore 
he  wandered  about,  and  presently  appeared  at  the  house,  where 
he  took  dinner  with  the  girls,  and  they  talked  about  what  would 
^happen. 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  406 

The  first  thing  that  happened  was  the  arrival  of  a  cart — a 
spring-cart — with  the  name  of  a  Regent-street  firm  upon  it.  The 
men  took  out  a  great  quantity  of  parcels  and  brought  them  into 
the  showroom.  All  the  girls  ran  down  to  see  what  it  meant, 
because  on  so  great  a  day  everything,  said  Nelly,  must  mean 
something, 

"  Name  of  Armitage  ?"  asked  the  man.  "  This  is  for  you, 
miss.  Name  of  Sorensen?  This  is  for  you."  And  so  on,  a 
parcel  for  every  one  of  the  girls. 

Then  he  went  away,  and  they  all  looked  at  each  other. 

'*  Hadn't  you  better,"  asked  Captain  Sorensen,  "  open  the  par- 
cels, girls  ?" 

They  opened  them. 

u  Oh— h  !" 

Behold !  for  every  girl  such  a  present  as  none  of  them  had 
ever  imagined!  The  masculine  pen  cannot  describe  the  sweet 
things  which  they  found  there ;  not  silks  and  satins,  but  pretty 
things ;  with  boots,  because  dressmakers  are  apt  to  be  shabby 
in  the  matter  of  boots  ;  and  Avith  handkerchiefs  and  pretty  scarfs 
and  gloves  and  serviceable  things  of  all  sorts. 

More  than  this :  there  was  a  separate  parcel  tied  up  in  white 
paper  for  every  girl,  and  on  it,  in  pencil,  "  For  the  wedding- 
supper  at  the  Palace  of  Delight."  And  in  it  gauze,  or  lace,  for 
bridesmaids'  head-dress,  and  white  kid  gloves,  and  a  necklace 
with  a  locket,  and  inside  the  locket  a  portrait  of  Miss  Kennedy, 
and  outside  her  Christian  name,  Angela.     Also,  for  each  girl  a 

little  note,  "  For  ,  Avith  Miss  Messenger's  love ;"  but  for 

Nelly,  whose  parcel  was  like  Benjamin's  mess,  the  note  was, 
"  For  Nelly,  with  Miss  Messenger's  kindest  love." 

"  That,"  said  Rebekah,  but  without  jealousy,  "  is  because  you 
were  Miss  Kennedy's  favorite.  Well !  Miss  Messenger  must  be 
fond  of  her,  and  no  wonder !" 

*'  No  wonder  at  all,"  said  Captain  Sorensen. 

And  nobody  guessed.     Nobody  had  the  least  suspicion. 

Whil<a  they  were  all  admiring  and  wondering,  Mrs.  Bormalack 
ran  over  breathless. 

"  My  dears !"  she  cried,  "  look  what's  come  !" 

Nothing  less  than  a  beautiful  black  silk  dress. 

"  Now  go  away.  Captain  Sorensen,"  she  said ;  "  you  men  are 
only  hindsring.     And  we've  got  to  try  on  things.     Oh,  good 


406  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

gracious !  To  think  that  Miss  Messenger  would  remember  me, 
of  all  people  in  the  world !  To  be  sure,  Mr.  Bormalack  was  one 
of  her  collectors,  and  she  may  have  heard  about  me — " 

"  No,"  said  Rebekah,  "  it  is  through  Miss  Kennedy ;  no  one 
has  been  forgotten  who  knew  her." 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening  the  great  hall  of  the  palace  was 
pretty  well  filled  with  guests.  Some  of  them,  armed  with  white 
wands,  acted  as  stewards,  and  it  was  understood  that  on  the 
arrival  of  Miss  Messenger  a  lane  was  to  be  formed,  and  the  pro- 
cession to  the  dais  at  the  end  of  the  hall  was  to  pass  through 
that  lane. 

Outside,  in  the  vestibule,  stood  the  wedding-party,  waiting: 
the  bridegroom  with  his  best  man,  and  the  bridesmaids  in  their 
white  dresses,  flowing  gauze,  and  necklaces  and  gloves  and  flow- 
ers— a  very  sweet  and  beautiful  bevy  of  girls ;  Harry  for  the  last 
time  in  his  life,  he  thought  with  a  sigh,  in  evening-dress.  Within 
the  hall  there  were  strange  rumors  flying  about.  It  was  said 
that  Miss  Messenger  herself  had  been  married  that  morning, 
and  that  the  procession  would  be  for  her  wedding ;  but  others 
knew  better :  it  was  Miss  Kennedy's  wedding ;  she  had  married 
Harry  Goslett,  the  man  they  called  Gentleman  Jack ;  and  Miss 
Kennedy,  everybody  knew,  was  patronized  by  Miss  Messenger. 

At  ten  minutes  past  seven  two  carriages  drew  up.  From  the 
first  of  these  descended  Harry's  bride,  led  by  Lord  Jocelyn  ; 
and  from  the  second  the  Davenants. 

Yes,  Harry's  bride.  But  whereas  in  the  morning  she  had 
been  dressed  in  a  plain  white  frock  and  white  bonnet  Uke  her 
bridesmaids — she  was  now  arrayed  in  white  satin,  mystic,  won- 
derful, with  white  veil  and  white  flowers,  and  round  her  white 
throat  a  necklace  of  sparkling  diamonds,  and  diamonds  in  her 
"hair. 

Harry  stepped  forward  with  beating  heart. 

"  Take  her,  boy,"  said  Lord  Jocelyn,  proudly.  "  But  you  have 
married — not  Miss  Kennedy  at  all — but  Angela  Messenger." 

Harry  took  his  bride's  hand  in  a  kind  of  stupor.  What  did 
Lord  Jocelyn  mean  ? 

"  Forgive  me,  Harry,"  she  said,  "  say  you  forgive  me." 

Then  he  raised  her  veil  and  kissed  her  forehead  before  them 
all.     But  he  could  not  speak,  because  all  in  a  moment  the  sense 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  407 

of  what  this  would  mean  poured  upon  his  brain  in  a  great  wave, 
and  he  would  fain  have  been  alone. 

It  was  Miss  Kennedy,  indeed,  but  glorified  into  a  great  lady ; 
oh ! — oh — Miss  Messenger  ! 

The  girls,  frightened,  were  shrinking  together ;  even  Rebckah 
was  afraid  of  the  great  and  mighty  name  of  Messenger. 

Angela  went  among  them,  and  kissed  them  all  with  words  of 
encouragement.  "  Can  you  not  love  me,  Nelly,"  she  said,  '*  as 
well  when  I  am  rich  as  when  I  was  poor?" 

Then  the  chief  officers  of  the  Brewery  advanced,  offering  con- 
gratulations in  timid  accents,  because  they  knew  now  that  Miss 
Kennedy,  the  dressmaker,  of  whom  such  hard  things  had  been 
sometimes  said  in  their  own  presence  and  by  their  own  wives^ 
was  no  other  than  the  sole  partner  in  the  Brewery,  and  that  her 
husband  had  worked  among  them  for  a  daily  wage.  What  did 
these  things  mean  ?  They  made  respectable  men  afraid.  One 
person  there  was,  however,  who  at  sight  of  Miss  Messenger,  for 
whom  he  was  waiting  with  anxious  heart,  having  a  great  deslro 
to  present  his  own  case  of  unrewarded  zeal,  turned  pale,  and 
broke  through  the  croAvd  with  violence  and  fled.  It  was  Uncle 
Bunker. 

And  then  the  stewards  appeared  at  the  open  doors,  and  the 
procession  was  formed. 

First  the  stewards  themselves — being  all  clerks  of  the  Brew- 
ery— walked  proudly  at  the  head,  carrying  their  white  wands 
like  rifles.  Next  came  Harry  and  the  bride,  at  sight  of  whom 
the  guests  shouted  and  roared ;  next  came  Dick  Coppin  with 
Nelly,  and  Lord  Jocelyn  with  Rebekah,  and  the  chief  brewer 
with  Lady  Davenant,  of  course  in  her  black  velvet  and  war- 
paint, and  Lord  Davenant  with  Mrs.  Bormalack,  and  the  chief 
accountant  with  another  bridesmaid,  and  Captain  Sorensen  with, 
another,  and  then  the  rest. 

Then  the  organ  burst  into  a  wedding-march,  rolling  and  peal- 
ing about  the  walls  and  roof  of  the  mighty  hall,  and  amid  its 
melodious  thunder,  and  the  shouts  of  the  wedding-guests,  Harry 
led  his  bride  slowly  through  the  lane  of  curious  and  rejoicmg 
faces,  till  they  reached  the  dais. 

When  all  were  arranged  with  the  bride  seated  in  the  middle, 
her  husband  standing  at  her  right  and  the  bridesmaids  groupe«l 
behind  them.  Lord  Jocelyn  stepped  to  the  front  and  read  in  a 
2D 


408  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OK    MEN. 

loud  voice  part  of  the  deed  of  gift,  which  he  then  gave  with  a 
profound  bow  to  Angela,  who  placed  it  in  her  husband's  hands. 

Then  she  stepped  forward  and  raised  her  veil,  and  stood  be- 
fore them  all,  beautiful  as  the  day,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
Yet  she  spoke  in  firm  and  clear  accents  which  all  could  hear. 
It  was  her  first  and  last  public  speech ;  for  Angela  belongs  to 
that  rapidly  diminishing  body  of  women  who  prefer  to  let  the 
men  do  all  the  public  speaking. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  she  said,  "  my  kind  friends :  I  wish  first 
that  you  should  clearly  understand  that  this  palace  has  been 
invented  and  designed  for  you  by  my  husband.  All  I  have  done 
is  to  build  it.  Now  it  is  yours,  with  all  it  contains.  I  pray  God 
that  it  may  be  used  worthily,  and  for  the  joy  and  happiness  of 
all.  I  declare  this  Palace  of  Delight  open,  the  property  of  the 
people,  to  be  administered  and  governed  by  them,  and  them 
alone,  in  trust  for  each  other." 

This  was  all  she  said;  and  the  peoplo  cheered  again,  and  the 
organ  played  "  God  Save  the  Queen." 

With  this  simple  ceremony  was  the  Palace  of  Delight  thrown 
open  to  the  world.  AVhat  better  beginning  could  it  have  than 
a  wedding-party  ?  What  better  omen  could  there  be  than  that 
the  Palace,  like  the  Garden  of  Eden,  should  begin  with  the  hap- 
piness of  a  wedded  pair  ? 

At  this  point  there  presented  itself,  to  those  who  drew  up  the 
programme,  a  grave  practical  difficulty.  It  was  this.  The  pal- 
ace could  only  be  declared  open  in  the  great  hall  itself.  Also, 
it  could  be  only  in  the  great  hall  that  the  banquet  could  take 
place.  Now,  how  were  the  fifteen  hundred  guests  to  be  got  out 
of  the  way  and  amused  while  the  tables  were  laid  and  the  cloth 
spread  ?  There  could  not  be,  it  is  true,  the  splendor  and  costly 
plate  and  epergnes  and  flowers  of  my  lord  mayor's  great  dinner, 
but  ornament  of  some  kind  there  must  be  upon  the  tables  ;  and 
even  with  an  army  of  drilled  waiters  it  takes  time  to  lay  covers 
for  fifteen  hundred  people. 

But  there  was  no  confusion.  Once  more  the  procession  was 
formed  and  marched  round  the  hall,  headed  by  the  band  of  the 
Guards,  visiting  first  the  gymnasium,  then  the  library,  then  the 
concert-room,  and  lastly  the  theatre.  Here  they  paused,  and 
the  bridal  party  took  their  seats.     The  people  poured  in  ;  when 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  409 

every  seat  was  taken  the  stewards  invited  the  rest  into  the  con- 
cert-room. In  the  theatre  a  little  sparkling  comedy  was  played ; 
in  the  concert-room  a  troop  of  singers  discoursed  sweet  madri- 
gals and  glees.  Outside,  the  waiters  ran  backward  and  forward 
as  busy  as  Diogenes  with  his  ^ub,  but  more  to  the  purpose. 

When,  in  something  over  an  hour,  the  performances  were  fin- 
ished, the  stewards  found  that  the  tables  were  laid,  one  running 
down  the  whole  length  of  the  hall,  and  shorter  ones  across  the 
hall.  Everybody  had  a  card  with  his  place  upon  it ;  there  was 
no  confusion,  and,  while  trumpeters  blared  a  welcome,  they  all 
took  their  places  in  due  order. 

Angela  and  her  husband  sat  in  the  middle  of  the  long  table ; 
at  Angela's  left  hand  was  Lord  Jocelyn,  at  Harry's  right  Lady 
Davenant.  Opposite  the  bride  and  bridegroom  sat  the  chief 
brewer  and  the  chief  accountant.  The  bridesmaids  spread  out 
right  and  left.  All  Angela's  friends  and  acquaintances  of  Step- 
ney Green  were  there,  except  three.  For  old  Mr.  Maliphant  was 
sitting  as  usual  in  the  boarding-house,  conversing  with  unseen 
persons,  and  laughing  and  brandishing  a  pipe ;  and  with  him 
Daniel  Fagg  sat  hugging  his  book.  And  in  his  own  office  sat 
Bunker,  sick  at  heart.  For  he  remembered  his  officious  private 
letter  to  Miss  Messenger,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  indeed  gone 
and  done  it. 

The  rest  of  the  long  table  was  filled  up  by  the  clerks  and  su- 
perior officers  of  the  Brewery ;  at  the  shorter  tables  sat  the  rest  of 
the  guests,  including  even  the  draymen  and  errand-boys.  And  so 
the  feast  began,  while  the  band  of  the  Guards  played  for  them. 

It  was  a  royal  feast,  with  the  most  magnificent  cold  sirloins 
of  roast  beef  and  rounds  of  salt  beef,  legs  of  mutton,  saddles  of 
mutton,  loins  of  veal,  ribs  of  pork,  legs  of  pork,  great  hams,  huge 
turkeys,  capons,  fowls,  ducks,  and  geese,  all  done  to  a  turn ;  so 
that  the  honest  guests  fell  to  with  a  mighty  will,  and  wished  that 
such  a  wedding  might  come  once  a  month  at  least,  with  such  a 
supper.  And  Messenger's  beer,  as  much  as  you  pleased,  for 
everybody.  At  a  moment  like  this,  would  one,  even  at  the  high 
table,  venture  to  ask,  to  say  nothing  of  wishing  for,  aught  but 
Messenger's  beer? 

After  the  hacked  and  mangled  remains  of  the  first  course  were 
removed,  there  came  puddings,  ^pics,  cakes,  jellies,  ices,  blanc- 
mange— all  kinds  of  delicious  things. 
18 


410  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

And  after  this  was  done,  and  eating  was  stayed,  and  only  the 
memory  left  of  the  enormous  feed,  the  chief  brewer  rose  and 
proposed  in  a  few  words  the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 
He  said  that  it  would  be  a  lasting  sorrow  to  all  of  them  that 
they  had  not  been  present  at  the  auspicious  event  of  the  morn- 
ing ;  but  that  it  was  in  some  measure  made  up  to  them  by  the 
happiness  they  had  enjoyed  together  that  evening.  If  any- 
thing, he  added,  could  make  them  pray  more  heartily  for  the 
happiness  of  the  bride,  it  would  be  the  thought  that  she  refused 
to  be  married  from  her  house  in  the  West  End,  but  came  to 
Stepney  among  the  workmen  and  managers  of  her  own  brewery, 
and  preferred  to  celebrate  her  wedding-feast  in  the  magnificent 
hall  which  she  had  given  to  the  people  of  the  place.  And  he 
had  one  more  good  thing  to  tell  them.  Miss  Messenger,  when 
she  gave  that  precious  thing,  her  hand,  retained  her  name. 
There  would  still  be  a  Messsenger  at  the  head  of  the  good  old 
house. 

Harry  replied  in  a  few  words,  and  the  wedding-cake  went 
round.  Then  Dick  Coppin  proposed  success  to  the  Palace  of 
Delight. 

-"Harry,"  whispered  Angela,  "if   you  love  me,  speak  now, 
from  your  very  heart." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  spoke  to  the  people  as  they  had 
never  heard  any  yet  speak. 

After  telling  them  what  the  palace  was,  what  it  was  meant  to 
be,  a  place  for  the  happiness  and  recreation  of  all  ;  how  they 
were  to  make  their  own  amusements  for  themselves;  how  there 
were  class-rooms  where  all  kinds  of  arts  and  accomplishments 
would  be  taught;  how,  to  insure  order  and  good  behavior,  it  was 
necessary  that  they  should  form  their  own  volunteer  police  ;  how 
there  were  to  be  no  politics  and  no  controversies  within  those 
walls,  and  how  the  management  of  all  was  left  to  committees  of 
their  own  choosing,  he  said  : 

"  Friends  all,  this  is  indeed  such  a  thing  as  the  world  has 
never  yet  seen.  You  have  been  frequently  invited  to  join  to- 
gether and  combine  for  the  raising  of  wages ;  you  are  continu- 
ally invited  to  follow  leaders  who  promise  to  reform  land  laws, 
when  you  have  no  land  and  never  will  have  any  ;  to  abolish  the 
House  of  Lords,  in  which  yoi^ have  no  part,  share,  or  lot;  to 
sweep  away  a  church  which  does  not  interfere  with  you ;  but 


ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN.  411 

who  have  nothing — no,  nothing  to  oflfer  you,  out  of  which  any 
help  or  advantage  will  come  to  you.  And  you  are  always  being 
told  to  consider  life  as  a  long  period  of  resignation  under  in- 
evitable suffering  ;  and  you  are  told  to  submit  your  reason,  your 
will,  yourselves,  to  authority,  and  all  will  be  well  with  you.  No 
one  yet  has  given  you  the  chance  of  making  yourselves  happy. 
In  this  place  you  will  find,  or  you  will  make  for  yourselves,  all 
the  things  which  make  the  lives  of  the  rich  happy.  Here  you 
will  have  music,  dancing,  singing,  acting,  painting,  reading, 
games  of  skill,  games  of  chance,  companionship,  cheerfulness, 
light,  warmth,  comfort — everything.  When  these  things  have 
been  enjoyed  for  a  time  they  will  become  a  necessity  for  you, 
and  a  part  of  the  education  for  your  young  people.  They  will 
go  on  to  desire  other  things  which  cannot  be  found  by  any 
others  for  you,  but  which  must  be  found  by  yourselves  and  for 
yourselves.  Mj  wife  has  placed  in  your  hands  the  materials  for 
earthly  joy ;  it  lies  with  you  to  learn  how  to  use  them ;  it  lies 
with  you  to  find  what  other  things  are  necessary ;  how  the 
people  who  have  all  the  power  there  is,  must  find  out  what  they 
want,  and  help  themselves  to  it,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder 
by  means  of  that  power;  how  those  enemies  are  not  the  rich, 
whom  your  brawlers  in  AVhitechapel  Road  ignorantly  accuse, 
but  quite  another  kind — and  you  must  find  out  for  yourselves 
who  these  are.  It  is  not  by  setting  poor  against  rich,  or  by 
hardening  the  heart  of  rich  against  poor,  that  you  will  succeed : 
it  is  by  independence  and  by  knowledge.  All  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men  are  alike.  As  are  the  vices  of  the  rich,  so  are  your 
own  ;  as  are  your  virtues,  so  are  theirs.  But,  hitherto,  the  rich 
have  had  things  Avhich  you  could  not  get.  Now  all  that  is 
altered :  in  the  Palace  of  Delight  we  are  equal  to  the  richest ; 
there  is  nothing  which  we,  too,  cannot  have ;  what  they  desire 
we  desire  ;  what  they  have  Ave  shall  have :  we  can  all  love ;  we 
can  all  laugh  ;  we  can  all  feel  the  Dower  of  music  ;  we  can  dance 
and  sing  ;  or  we  can  sit  in  peace  and  meditate.  In  this  palace, 
as  in  the  outer  world,  remember  that  you  have  the  power.  The 
time  for  envy,  hatred,  and  accusations  has  gone  by ;  because  we 
workingmen  have,  at  last,  all  the  power  there  is  to  have.  Let 
us  use  it  well.  But  tlie  palace  will  be  for  joy  and  happiness, 
not  for  political  wrangles.  Brothers  and  sisters,  we  will  no 
longer  sit  down  in  resignation  :  we  will  take  the  same  joy  in 


412  ALL    SORTS    AND    CONDITIONS    OF    MEN. 

this  world  that  the  rich  have  taken.  Life  is  short  for  us  all; 
let  us  make  the  most  of  it  for  ourselves  and  for  each  other. 
There  are  so  many  joys  within  our  reach ;  there  are  so  many 
miseries  which  we  can  abolish.  In  this  house,  which  is  a  Tem- 
ple of  Praise,  we  shall  all  together  continually  be  thinking  how 
to  bring  more  sunshine  into  our  lives,  more  change,  more  variety, 
more  happiness." 

A  serious  ending ;  because  Harry  spoke  from  his  heart.  As 
he  took  his  seat  in  deep  silence,  the  organ  broke  forth  again  and 
played,  while  the  people  stood,  the  grand  Old  Hundredth  Psalm. 

A  serious  ending  to  the  feast ;  but  Life  is  serious. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  bride  rose,  and  the  band  played  a  joy- 
ful march,  while  the  wedding-procession  once  more  formed  and 
marched  down  the  hall,  and  the  people  poured  out  into  the 
streets  to  cheer,  and  Angela  and  her  husband  drove  away  for 
their  honeymoon. 

The  Palace  of  Delight  is  in  working  order  now,  and  Stepney 
is  already  transformed.  A  new  period  began  on  the  opening 
night  for  all  who  were  present.  For  the  first  time  they  under- 
stood that  life  may  be  happy ;  for  the  first  time  they  resolved 
that  they  would  find  out  for  themselves  the  secret  of  happiness. 
The  angel  with  the  flaming  sword  has  at  last  stepped  from  the 
gates  of  the  earthly  paradise,  and  we  may  now  enter  therein  and 
taste,  unreproved,  of  all  the  fruits  except  the  apples  of  the  Tree 
of  Life — which  has  been  removed,  long  since,  to  another  place. 


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